


Crossroads

by Kiyoko_Michi



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, POV Alternating, Seeker Trines, Seekers have weird sparks, Short Chapters, grumpy Starscream, stars crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 48
Words: 40,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5082274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyoko_Michi/pseuds/Kiyoko_Michi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After decavorns under the ice, Skyfire wakes up to a very different universe and struggles to survive in a war he doesn't understand. Alone. Meanwhile, in the Autobot ship, a certain Seeker is recovering from his own stasis... </p><p>(An AU in which both Explorers crash in the storm and are discovered by different factions. Based on a prompt by officialbumblebee)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

**- >SS<-**

Starscream woke up slowly. His processer onlined in stages, like he was waking up from a deep recharge. He basked in the feeling and frowned when he noticed the deep ache infusing the back of his processer—the only discordant note present. He tried to stretch to relieve the gentle ache of stiff components, but he didn’t get far. Metal cuffs held his limbs in place.

He onlined very quickly after that.

 A truly appalling shade of orange met his optics. Cybertronian design, and not one he recognized

He jerked harder, scratching at the metal with his claws. The cuffs rattled but didn’t give. Then strange hands pushed down on his shoulders, pressing him back against the berth. They belonged to a small red Grounder, hidden by a visor and mask. He was talking, trying to be soothing.

 “—relax. I know you’re confused, but you’re safe now. Just calm down, and we can-”

 Senseless drivel. Starscream snarled at him. “Let me go!” he tried to shout. Instead, his vocalizer gave a disturbing wheeze as newly integrated parts struggled, and he coughed.

The mech started—was he _petting_ him? Really? Eventually, glaring at the Grounder the entire time, Starscream regained control of his vocalizer. His voice still rasped when he tried speaking again, but it worked.

 “Where is he,” Starscream growled. His throat ached, but he forced the words through.

The Grounder’s hand paused, and he tilted his head. “Where’s who?” he asked. “You were alone when we found you.”

Starscream bared his teeth. “My partner, slaggit!” Skyfire had been right beside him before the storm had torn them apart. “We crashed together. What did you do with him?”

The Grounder’s hands froze then fell to his lap. “Oh,” he said quietly. Fiddling with his fingers, “We stumbled upon you in this planet’s Arctic Circle. After we found you, I’m afraid we…” He trailed off with a sad little mumble. If Starscream were a kinder mech, he might have felt sorry for the mech. Instead, he was only irritated.

 “You _what?_ ” he asked. “Spit it out already!”

If anything, the Grounder seemed to shrink even further into his seat. “We scanned the rest of the sector afterwards. There were no other life signals.” A pause. “I’m sorry.”

 Starscream froze. His spark twisted in his chest, and his vocalizer emitted a deep, guttural sound of pain and disbelief. It took two tries before he managed to voice the words. “You’re wrong,” he said. “You… you messed up the scan. Skyfire has thicker armor than mine. He wouldn’t have been offlined by some slagging _storm!_ ”

The Grounder’s visor dimmed with something disgustingly like pity. Starscream snarled as he reached out to touch his plating again. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice absolutely dripping with sorrow. “This must be horribly difficult for--”

“Shut up!” Starscream howled, jerking as far away from the lying slagger as possible. “I don’t need your pity!” He could keep his softsparked sympathy. Skyfire wasn’t dead. He _wasn’t._ These incompetent slaggers had just screwed everything up. Starscream just… He needed to go back. He’d find the crash site, get Skyfire back, and throttle the Shuttle for daring to do this. Then the world would go back to normal again.

Mind made up, Starscream tore at the cuffs with his claws. The metal bit deep enough to draw energon, but Starscream didn’t even feel the pain. Beside him, the Grounder’s voice was high with panic as he tried to pin him back against the berth. Starscream retaliated, digging his claws deep into the mech’s plating, and he pulled back with a gasp of pain, cradling his arms to his chest.

A new voice cut in, deep and harsher with age. “That’s it. I’m putting him back under,” he said. Something stung Starscream’s neck, there and gone just as quickly. Starscream’s processer slowed, and he slipped gratefully back into unconsciousness. 

~.*.~


	2. Awakening

**- <SF>-**

Pain exploded through Skyfire’s frame, and, gasping, he slammed into consciousness. Jerking upright, he felt cables pull free from his frame, leaving throbbing ports behind. His processer ached fiercely, and his frame felt… strange. For some reason, his sensor net was only half calibrated, leaving his vision blurry and limbs uncoordinated. Something—some _one—_ moved beside him, and Skyfire focused his bleary optics on them, willing his static laden vision to clear.

 “State your designation and affiliation,” the mech said. The tone, clipped and stern, was the same one used by all harried medics. Skyfire shrank beneath it.

“My designation is Skyfire,” he answered. “And… Iacon Academy, I suppose. I’m an Interstellar explorer funded by the organization.”

 His optics reset, and Skyfire’s vision cleared enough to make out a heavyset, lime green mech standing before him. His glare, which was aimed at a datapad in his hand, was quite impressive.

“The Iacon Academy hasn’t been functional in a long time.”

 Skyfire blinked, and disappointment curled in his chest. “I’m… sorry to hear that,” he said. “I understand the energon crisis was worsening when we left, but I’d hoped a solution would be found before too much was lost.”

 They’d only been gone from Cybertron for a decavorn. The Academy had seemed too big to fall so quickly but, well… Many things had changed with the crisis. The fall of a single Academy, no matter how large or prestigious, was not unheard of.

The mech—medic, Skyfire revised, as he saw the mech’s extensively upgraded hands—snorted. It was an unpleasant sound, haughty and darkly amused. Skyfire immediately disliked it.

“Sorry, but where am I?” Skyfire asked, glancing around. “According to my memory banks, my last location was in a small ice planet, vorns away from the nearest Cybertronian outpost. How did I get here?”

He remembered the storm. There were the winds and the crash, when ice had immobilized his limbs and freezing liquid leaked into past his plating and into his internals, moving towards his processer and he couldn’t—

Skyfire shied away from the memory. He was alive now. Safe. He just needed to find Starscream, and everything would be fine. 

“We dug you up,” the medic said. “You were in the way, and then _I_ got charged with the unpleasant task of preparing your damaged frame for reactivation. As if I don’t already have enough problems to take care of!”

The mech kept grumbling under his breath, angrily enough that Skyfire didn’t want to interrupt him. He waited a moment then, when the medic showed no signs of stopping, hesitantly asked, “Was there anyone else found with me?”

“Of course not, thank Primus,” the mech sniped. “One unexpected ‘guest’ was more than enough!”

Skyfire relaxed back onto the berth, smiling despite the medic’s general unpleasantness. Starscream had made it out then. Thank Primus. He shouldn’t have been worried—Starscream was a far better flyer than him; of course a small storm wouldn’t have stopped him. He didn’t seem to be here though, wherever ‘here’ was.

“And our location?” Skyfire prompted.

The medic grimaced. “We’re still on the pathetic excuse for a planet that you crashed in. Despite it's absolutely repulsive landscape, the available energy sources are too valuable to ignore.” 

“But how did you-” Skyfire started, but he was cut off.

“I’m far too busy to answer all your inane questions,” he snapped. “Unless your repairs start malfunctioning—which they _won’t--s_ it there quietly until you find someone else to pester.”

Meekly, Skyfire nodded. He was in an unfamiliar place, with a strange, grumpy mech, and he’d rather not annoy the medic who’d repaired him. Shifting awkwardly, Skyfire glanced around the room. He’d been, apparently, placed in a secluded corner of a busy med-bay. Mecha wove in and out of the room, barely sparing him a glance. It… felt military. Important, too.

“This the new guy?” someone asked right beside him.

Skyfire jumped and looked around, wondering how someone had snuck up on him, but didn’t see anyone. Then he looked down. Two tiny mecha stared up at him, one red and one blue. Smaller than minibots, their helms barely reached the edge of the berth. Cassetticons, perhaps? He wondered where their Host was.

“I’m Skyfire,” he said. “Who are you?”

“Rumble,” the blue one said. “An’ this is Frenzy.” Then, swinging up to a chair, he hoped onto the berth. He whistled. “Wow. You really are a big guy, huh. You any good at fightin’?

Skyfire frowned but scooted over, giving the Cassetticons more room. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

Rumble snorted. “Fighting. Ya heard of it?,” he asked dryly.

“Sorry, I think there’s been some mistake,” Skyfire said. “I’m an Interstellar explorer. A scientist, not a soldier.”

The two exchanged glances. “Have you even _held_ a gun before?” Frenzy asked.

Skyfire cringed at the thought. “Of course not!” he said. Why were they so fixated on that? Just what was this place?

Both Cassetticons burst into laughter. “Ah, man, we picked up a _Civvie_! Buckethead is gonna _freak._ ” He patted Skyfire’s side, as high up as he could reach. Skyfire barely felt the touch. “I hope you’ve got _some_ useful skill at least, or you’re not gonna last long.”

Skyfire frowned, and trepidation built in his spark. He was about to ask the Cassetticons to elaborate, but they were interrupted when the medic from before stalked over.

“You! Scraplets!” he shouted, pointing at the tiny mecha. ”You’re in charge of our newest recruit. Try not to get him deactivated right away.”

Both mecha groaned in unison. “Aw, C’mon!” Rumble whined. “What are we supposed ta do with him, huh? We got better things to waste our time with.”

The medic was already turning away. “Slag if I care. Fob him off on someone else.” Then he was gone, retreating back to the mysterious depths of the med-bay.

The two Cassetticons stared at him. Skyfire stared back. “C’mon. Let’s blow this joint.”

Skyfire had nothing better to do. He followed.

~.*.~


	3. Discoveries

****- >SS<-**   
**

* * *

"Leave me alone."

Without even onlining his optics, Starscream flicked his wings at the intruder. He was curled atop the berth, wings shielding him from the rest of the room. Sometime while he'd been unconscious, the cuffs had been removed, not that it mattered. Where was he going to go?

The mech kept coming. Starscream continued ignoring him. He had a heavy tread—a large mech, then. Definitely a different one than earlier. The chair beside Starscream's berth creaked as he sat down. Growling, Starscream flared his wings in the most blatant, offensive gesture he knew, one even a Groundpounder could understand. The mech still didn't take the hint.

"May I at least have your designation?" the mech said. He had a deep voice, smooth and controlled. Starscream immediately hated it. The large frame, soothing voice, it was too much like…  _no._

"Slag. Off," Starscream growled.

The mech sighed. Even that small sound was  _infuriatingly_ composed, filled with an achingly familiar tone of mild disappointment. "Alright, then," he said. "I just need you to listen for a breem, and then I'll go, if that is your wish."

Stubborn, Starscream didn't dignify him with an answer.

"My name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. I'm afraid you've been in stasis for a very, very long time."

-/-

The mech—the  _Prime_ —lied. Nearly a full five breems passed before he finally stood and left Starscream in peace. Starscream didn't say a word. He didn't respond in any way, no matter how tempted he was to turn and attack the other mech. Eventually,  _finally,_ he was gone, leaving a small datapad behind for him to 'research' with.

Prime—and that wasn't right, the Prime was  _Sentinel_ , not this 'Optimus'—spun him an elaborate tale about a crisis and a war that stretched on for eons. It was a nice story, he supposed. One of good versus evil, ridiculous dramatics, and all that drivel.

He considered just leaving the datapad where it was. Refusing to play whatever game they were trying to pull. Yet, curiosity had always been a weakness of his. Eventually, it won out, and he reached over. Then he started to read

-/-

The datapad held proof. Centivorns of it, in official records and news reports. There were too many of them, each as detailed and elaborate as the last. Pictures showed the remnants of a gutted Cybertron and videos of battlefields. Starscream searched the datapad for cycles, until the lights dimmed and exhaustion tugged at his processer, but he barely even scratched the surface.

Then, gently, Starscream set the datapad back down. He started to laugh. Great, heaving burst of static and high-pitched laughter that sounded more like sobs.

Skyfire was dead, the world had gone to slag, and he was stuck in the middle of a war.

Wasn't it all just hilarious?

~.*.~

 

 

 

 


	4. Discoveries

 

**- <SF>-**

* * *

Somehow—he wasn't quite sure how—Skyfire ended up with two tiny mecha perched on his shoulders. Tinier fingers clutched at the seams of his armor and his helm for balance. Skyfire didn't mind, though their scrabbling fingers tended to tickle. And, with their faces right next to his helm, the Cassetticons seemed far louder.

"Over there!" Frenzy shrieked, practically bouncing on Skyfire's shoulder. He seemed inordinately gleeful about being tall enough to stare down at everyone else. Plenty of mecha were staring, though Skyfire didn't know whether they were staring at the Shuttle, the Cassetticons, or the unusual combination they made together.

"Frenzy. Rumble: Desist," an oddly mechanical voice said. The Twins froze. Frenzy squeaked.

"Ah, slag," Frenzy whispered. Skyfire turned, curious who had elicited such a dramatic reaction from the previously unflappable Twins. He was a blocky mech. Average height, with a smooth visor and mask covering his face. His chest was unusually large, even for this planet's bulky altmodes.

"Heeey, Soundwave," Rumble said, smiling weakly. Concerned, Skyfire raised a hand to steady the tiny mech. Just who was this 'Soundwave?' Despite his unassuming build and unreadable disposition, he practically radiated authority.

Soundwave tilted his head. "Query: new recruit?" he asked.

Rumble straightened, resting an oddly possessive arm against Skyfire's helm. "He's ours. Hook gave 'em to us." He grinned. "Can we keep him, Boss? I've always wanted a pet."

Skyfire ignored the pet comment, focusing on the "Boss" one instead. So this was the Twins' Host. It explained the bulky chest.

"Negative." Soundwave stated. "Recruit: must report to Thundercracker for evaluation."

The Twins groaned. "Aw, c'mon, the Air Commander won't want him. He's useless! Never even fired a blaster before! Slag knows what he was doing in that ice."

"Hey," Skyfire objected, mildly insulted. "I'm an Interstellar explorer and an energon production specialist."

" _Energon_  production?" Rumble repeated, growing serious for a moment. Then the mischievous smirk returned. "Maybe they'll find a use for you after all. Slag. I was looking forward to having a good minion."

"I dunno," Frenzy cut in. "Not sure how good of a explorer he coulda been to end up crashed like that. And why was he alone? I thought all explorers came in a pair."

Skyfire frowned. "I did have a partner. He's a far better flyer than I am. He would have escaped the storm and returned home." Skyfire paused as another thought struck him. "Do you know how I can get a message back to Iacon? I need to let him know I'm alright. He'll be sick with worry." Or, more likely, grief, which made Skyfire's spark ache to consider. His internal 'com system was still broken, not that it mattered. It wouldn't have been nearly strong enough to reach back home.

Nobody answered him. Rumble and Frenzy stared up at him with twin expressions of horror.

"What?" Skyfire asked, self-conscious and growing concerned.

They exchanged several strange glances and expressions, as if having a silent argument. Rumble half-shoved Frenzy, then the blue minicon hissed something—a threat? A bribe?—in Rumble's ear. He winced, and Frenzy smirked, giving him a little shove forward.

"Uh…." Rumble stuttered. "I… don't think that's a good idea."

Skyfire glanced between them, concern blossoming into true fear. "Why? What's going on?" he asked. Uncomfortable silence followed once again, until Soundwave broke it.

"Partner: likely deactivated," he said. "Great War: decimated population."

Skyfire's spark plummeted. Numbly, he opened his mouth—to argue, or ask a question,  _something—_ but only static emerged. His legs shook, nearly giving out, and he collapsed heavily into a nearby chair, which creaked under his weight.

"You're wrong," he managed to croak. "Starscream was—He wouldn't have-"

"Iacon: destroyed during the War. Survivors: few."

Skyfire kept shaking his head, though no more words emerged. Iacon? The entire  _city_ —the Capital of Cybertron, even? How could they destroy an entire city? He'd been there, walking among the Grand Citadels of the Academy and flying amid its spires only a few vorns ago. It couldn't be gone, just like that.

And Starscream—Primus, Starscream. He couldn't have— _no._  He was too strong for that. Too  _vibrant._

Please, no.

~.*.~


	5. SS: Alone

**- >SS<-**

 “I’m so glad you decided to join us! I mean, not that being a Neutral is bad or anything, but we’ll be able to help you so much better now!”

Starscream resisted the urge to touch his chest, where the Autobot brand now sat. Not that he could feel anything—the ‘brand,’ as they called it, was nothing more than a circle of reprogrammed paint nanites. Beside him, the chatterbox—some grey Praxian—kept going, talking about how ‘nice’ all the Autobots were and how ‘happy’ they’d be to meet him as he led Starscream to his new quarters.

Starscream barely managed not to snap back at him. He didn’t _care_ about these strangers and, right now, he wanted nothing to do with them.

The brand had been… an unpleasant necessity. Apparently, remaining ‘neutral’ meant he’d have zero clearance and would be kept in the dark about everything.

Slag _that_.

Taking the brand just meant he had to obey orders and not pick any fights. Which… he’d manage. Probably. And the Prime (the new one, which was slagging _strange_ ) was a complete softspark. All he’d had to say was that he wanted some time to get ‘acclimated’ to the new time, and the mech had practically fallen over himself trying to help him. He’d been so fragging happy about it too, like Starscream agreeing to join them was the best thing ever.

Crazy mech.

 _Finally_ , the chatterbox stopped in front of an unremarkable room. He slid the unlocked door open and turned to Starscream with a smile. “These’ll be you’re new quarters! It’s at the end of the regular rooms so, if you need any help, you can just-”

Starscream cut him off. “Yeah, great. Thanks for bringing me here,” he said without any enthusiasm. Then he stepped inside and shut the door in the Praxian’s face without a smidge of guilt.

The resulting silence was a blessing. Nobody talking to him. Nobody _watching._ Starscream let his forehead rest against the door, and his shoulders and wings finally slumped out of their rigid hold. Without bothering to turn on the lights, Starscream turned around and stumbled to the berth, practically falling into it.  

Tomorrow he’d figure things out. He’d play nice with these ‘Autobots‘ and find out what he was dealing with. He would carve out a place here until they couldn’t afford to throw him away.

Tonight, though, he just lay on his new berth and tried very hard not to think.

-/-

Cycles later, Starscream woke up to the sound of polite rapping on the door. Groaning, Starscream tried to bury his head back into the berth. The sound continued, slightly louder. Starscream glared blearily at the door then determinately turned away. It was too early for this slag.

The next time, the knocking was accompanied by the screech of a door chime, discordant enough it had to be intentional. Starscream huffed and tried to trigger recharge again, but it wouldn’t come. The incessant noise from the door refused to leave him in peace.

“’Fire,” Starscream groaned. “Leave me alone. I’m not--”

Memory returned with a jolt. It wasn’t Skyfire. Couldn’t be because—

No, no, _no_ , he refused to go through that again. He was _Starscream._ He didn’t do _weak,_ and he sure as slag didn’t hide away from anything. The next tie the door chime rang, Starscream reluctantly pushed himself out of bed. He grimaced. His wings were scuffed from the low quality berth—definitely _not_ designed with Seekers in mind—and his joints ached faintly.

He stumbled towards the door, then took a moment to compose himself. Even if he didn’t have the time or materials to make himself presentable, he wouldn’t let any of these strangers see him rattled again. The door controls were unfamiliar, but a solid smack sent the doors sliding open.

The grey Praxian from before was standing there, hand still upraised to knock. 

“The slag do you want?” Starscream grumbled.

The hand fell down immediately, to hide almost sheepishly behind the Praxian’s back. “I wanted to check on you?” he tried, wingtips flickering in clear nervousness. “I mean, it’s been over half a solar cycle since I last saw you, and I’ve been asking around but _nobody_ else had seen you either—and I knowthey would have remembered you!—so I wanted to check on you. I mean, there’s no energon in here, so I figured you gotta be hungry. And then I realized nobody’d even shown you the way to the rec-room, which wasn’t good, and I--”

The mech just kept talking. Starscream was almost impressed. Not enough to stop the growing swell of irritation in his spark though. Yet, when he opened his mouth to tell the softspark to slag off, something stopped him.

He'd told himself he'd start being 'nice' to the Autobots today, hadn't he? Now, with his mood already soured and the prospect of actual interaction in front of him, Starscream was questioning that decision. Yet... He’d survived in Iacon by making himself irreplaceable, no matter how much his peers had hated him. He didn't _like_ the idea of starting over, especially without Sky—any allies to help bail him out if things went sour, but it had to be done regardless. Besides, his tanks were getting rather empty

“Fine,” Starscream gritted out. “Show me where this ‘rec room’ is.” Then, after a moment’s pause, “And what’s your designation anyway?”

A grin split the mech’s face. “Bluestreak!” he chirped. Then, still beaming, he stepped away from the doorway and kept chattering. Starscream followed him, barely grumbling at all. This time, the hallway wasn’t empty. He didn’t miss the stares as he walked down the hallway. Nor the hushed whispers just below audio range.  Starscream kept his helm high and his wings extended as wide as they could, as if daring anyone to comment.

~.*.~


	6. SF: Alone

**- <SF>-**

 ‘Com systems were strictly monitored and forbidden for any unranked soldier. No exceptions.

Skyfire tried. Multiple times. He _begged_ for the chance to make a single call. For a list of survivors. It didn’t work. Desperate, he tried to sneak in. He had the coding skills to hack the door, and he spent half an orn preparing. Didn’t even make it into the hallway before another Cassetticon—a quadruped, this time—herded him away. He wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t think of anything that would work.

Locked inside his cramped quarters, Skyfire fiddled with the energon cube in his hand and took a long draught. It wasn’t high-grade, much as he wished it was. Apparently, that was yet another thing this time lacked. He wanted the oblivion of overcharge. Wanted to dull the thoughts that swirled inside his processer, questions and fear and panic strong enough to drown his spark.

Starscream couldn’t be dead. He _couldn’t._

Offlining his optics, Skyfire pushed back the terror clawing at his chest. If anyone could survive the war, it was Starscream. He was a survivor. Always had been. Starscream was the best flyer Skyfire had ever known and an expert at getting out of rough spots. He was the kind of mech who’d learned how to fight on the ground so he could beat the Iaconians who’d disapproved of his presence.

Starscream had always refused to accept defeat, and he would fight the universe itself if he had to. He would have joined the war and fought, would have survived everything it had thrown at him.

Skyfire just had to find him. That was all. He just needed a _chance._

_~.*.~_


	7. SS: Settling In

**- <SS>\- **

 “Ah, come on, Sunny. If we just switch out the stabilizer, we can double the output no problem!”

Starscream froze with his energon cube halfway to his lips. Then he returned it to the table without taking a sip. Two mecha, one bright red, the other yellow, sat at a table near the isolated corner Starscream had claimed as his own. Their voices carried easily in the mostly empty room.

His first visit to the rec-room had been… thoroughly underwhelming: a blur of curious faces, grasping hands, and suspicious stares and- Well. He’d elected to avoid the room during its busy hours after that. It was the best way to avoid clawing out the optics of whatever idiots thought swarming a strange Seeker was a good idea.

The room was never completely empty though. And, every so often, he managed to stumble upon something interesting. Starscream eavesdropped shamelessly on the other mecha’s conversation. They were discussing some kind of energon production—something about geothermal energy and modified energy sinks. Within a klik, Starscream had figured out they were talking about high-grade production, and an illegal still at that.

To be fair, they weren’t complete amateurs. Obviously they were soldiers not scientists—and Frontliners too, judging by their armor and inbuilt weaponry—but they definitely knew the basics of energon distillation. Starscream sipped at his energon, for once feeling almost… calm. This, at least, was familiar. It wasn’t the Academy—wasn’t even close—but there was an echo  of it in the way the two mecha debated their project.

Then they started talking about an adjustment to maximize output, and Starscream’s almost pleasant mood immediately soured. He managed to hold it in for another klik. Then, after one _particularly_ boneheaded suggestion, he snapped.

“Don’t you dare!” he hissed, shooting out of his seat and stalking over to the would-be bootleggers. “If you try to reroute the energy like that, you’ll slag up the entire energy sink! Keep forcing it, and you’ll blow the entire setup! Literally!”

The red mech gaped at him, cube forgotten halfway to his mouth. Starscream, slamming his own cube down and looming over their table, continued.

“And another thing! Why the slag are you morons still using the diffractive Straxian setup? That inefficient model was outdated the last time _I_ was on Cybertron!”

The yellow one—Sunny, he’d been called—stood, crossing his arms and trying to loom over Starscream. “And you can do better?” he challenged.  

Starscream threw his head back and laughed. “I was an Interstellar Explorer and Energon specialist,” he said, watching as the other mech bristled at his tone. “I could make something twice as good while I was still a youngling.” The best part was, it was true. Sure he’d barely been able to reach some of the parts and had nearly burned the lab down, but he’d succeeded. The energon it produced had even been edible, more or less.

Sunny growled and stepped forward, but the red one stopped him with a look. He watched Starscream with considering optics. Then he took a datapad out of his subspace and swung it towards him.

“Prove it,” he said. The datapad was full of schematics.

With a sharp, toothy grin—almost a snarl—Starscream sat down, grabbed the datapad, and he did.

_~.*.~_


	8. SF: Settling In

**- <SF>-**

Before the war, Skyfire had rarely seen other Seekers. He’d lived in Iacon, after all, where few Flyers lived and even fewer Warbuilds. Starscream had been an anomaly; most Seekers stayed in Vos, bound there by ties of Trine and kinship. Even back then, Iacon had been lukewarm towards Seekers.

Here, though, in the backend of nowhere and with Starscream missing, there were Seekers. Dozens of them.

The irony made him want to laugh. Or cry.

Being a Shuttle apparently put him in the same class as all the other Flyers, for all the sense lumping Civilian and Military builds together made. He was placed under the Air Commander, a blue and black Seeker named Thundercracker. Neither was happy about it. Skyfire because seeing another Seeker _hurt_ , and Thundercracker because, well…

Evaluation wasn’t going so well.

Skyfire stared at the blaster—more of a cannon, really—that had been thrust into his arms. Then, gingerly, he pinched the handle between two fingers, lifted it up, and set it carefully back on the table.

“No.”

Thundercracker glared at him, wings flared in irritation.  He picked the blaster back up and tried to push it back into Skyfire’s arms. Skyfire flinched away, and the weapon clattered to the ground. Thundercracker’s expression darkened. “If you’re going to be under my command, you need to know how to fire a blaster,” he said.

Skyfire nudged the blaster further away with his foot. “No,” he repeated. “I won’t—I _can’t_ do it.” Just thinking of holding the weapon made him feel sick. Actually firing it—especially _at another mech_ —was out of the question. His very spark rebelled at the idea.

Thundercracker sighed and picked it back up. His hand fit confidently around the metal. “We’re at war. If you don’t fight, you’ll die.”

Skyfire couldn’t meet his optics. With a sigh—almost a growl--Thundercracker turned and walked away.

Skyfire didn’t stop him.

-/-

“Here.”

Skyfire jumped when a datapad was thrust in front of his face. He glanced up to find Thundercracker staring down at him. Even sitting, Skyfire was barely shorter than the Seeker. He gingerly took the datapad. “What’s this?”

“Your new orders. Don’t slag these ones up too.”

He left without a backward glance, thrusters clicking against the floor.

Curious, Skyfire turned back to the datapad. Activated it. There were transfer papers there. For several long moments, Skyfire could just stare at the large glyphs, stunned. Then he kept reading.

He was, apparently, being moved to the labs as a minor assistant. Grunt work at best.

Skyfire set the datapad down on the table. Then, a klik later, moved it to his subspace, where it would be safe. Gratitude lit up his spark. He didn’t have to hold a blaster in the labs Didn’t have to fight.

“Thank you,” Skyfire whispered, though Thundercracker was long gone.

~.*.~

**AN** : Sorry for the delay! I took the MCAT earlier this week, and all my normal writing time got taken up by studying. Chapters should be coming up fairly regularly now though.


	9. SS: Experiments in Socialization

**- >SS<-**

One thing led to another, and Starscream found himself in the Twins’ quarters, eyeing the half-made high grade still they’d hidden there. It was… acceptable, he supposed.

Starscream could do a lot better than ‘acceptable.’

“Get me a good toolset, and I’ll fix this thing up right,” Starscream ordered. Sideswipe, practically bouncing in glee, raced to find one, and Starscream gave the machine a closer inspection. He acknowledged Sideswipe with a distracted nod when he returned, grabbed a wrench, and started to work.

Sideswipe joined him, though Sunstreaker seemed content to watch. Starscream watched him work for a moment before deciding he probably wouldn’t mess anything up. When Starscream stopped Sideswipe from soldering the wrong connection, he actually _thanked_ the Seeker instead of getting upset about the correction. It was… strange. Starscream was actually _enjoying_ working with them. Then, of course, Sideswipe opened his mouth to ‘socialize.’

 “So how’d a Seeker like you end up at the Academy?” he asked.

Starscream’s hand clenched on the wrench in his palm, and he briefly considered chucking it at the Frontliner. Unfortunately, the projectile—and subsequent brawl—might damage the still, and Starscream had put in too much work to ruin it now. Instead, he pushed out from where he’d been sprawled under the machine and glared up at Sideswipe.

“What, ‘cause Seekers are supposed to stay in Vos and head straight to the War Academy?” he asked, clambering to his feet and flaring his wings. “We’re not ‘allowed’ to do normal things like study energon production?”

Sideswipe blanched and stumbled through an apology. Sunstreaker cuffed him upside the head. “What my Twin _meant_ to ask was why you decided on Iacon. The Capital was one of the worst places for Flyers or warbuilds.”

Mollified slightly, though only _slightly_ , Starscream said, “You speaking from experience?”

Sunstreaker shrugged. “It was long before the war. We didn’t stay in Iacon for long.”

An interesting tidbit, though unsurprising. The Twins were warframes; Iacon certainly wouldn’t have welcomed them either. Thumbing the wrench again, Starscream returned to work. Breems passed as the awkward silence slowly turned comfortable again, punctuated by periodic grunts and orders.

Then, surprising even himself, Starscream said, “Iacon’s Academy was the best. Everyone said I couldn’t get in.” He smiled, snapping a particularly stubborn cable into place. “I proved them wrong. I crushed _all_ of them.” He’d been _better_ than every single mecha that tried to stop or replace him. Eventually, he’d forced them all to admit it.

Humming tunelessly, Starscream lost himself in the work. It was an easy design—simple. He’d built dozens like it over the vorns, with far worse material and more difficult resources to draw from. Everything went fine for several more breems. Then Sideswipe jumped back with a pained, bitten off curse and stared at the still with wild optics.

“Uh, Starscream?” he called, clutching his slightly singed fingers. “It started smoking. I really, really don’t think it’s supposed to be smoking.’

Starscream shot up, and he followed Sideswipe’s gaze to the far end of the machine. Which was literally _on fire._ And it was spreading.  

“Oh slag, _run._ ” Starscream shot out. They almost made it through the door before the explosion thundered past them. The sound came first, scrambling Starscream’s audios. Then the shockwave and heat. Starscream was nearly thrown off his feet, and he remained standing through sheer force of will. The Twins weren’t so lucky. Sideswipe lost his balance and tumbled down. His flailing arm tripped Sunstreaker, sending them both flying. They skidded to a stop in the middle of the hallway, dazed and groaning in a graceless lump.

Behind them, the doorway was scorched and still steadily leaking smoke. Nothing a new coat of paint couldn’t fix, surprisingly. He doubted the room itself had been as lucky.

Sideswipe poked his head up. “Oh slag, _close the door,_ ” he hissed. “Before-”

“WHEELJACK!!!” Someone roared from several hallways down. The voice echoed across the ship. Despite the distorted echo, it reminded him of the grumpy red Medic from before.

The Twins were already standing, helping each other up and wiping away the scorch marks. Starscream dove forward and smacked the keypad, closing the door with a slight screech. If you ignored the lingering, acrid scent of smoke, you’d never know something had happened. Soon enough, other mecha joined them, searching for the source of the explosion. Sideswipe, who’d managed a very good expression of mildly concerned curiosity, mingled with them.

The next time they were alone, Starscream sidled up next to him. “So who’s this Wheeljack?” he asked.

Sideswipe grinned. “Only our very own mad scientist. He specializes in energy and experimental weapons. Many of which explode _spectacularly_ and send him to the med-bay every few orns.” He paused, eyeing Starscream speculatively. “I think you guys would get along. I’ll introduce ya to him later.”

Starscream nodded, interest reluctantly piqued. Sideswipe seemed like a good judge of character, but he’d reserve judgement until he actually met the mech. Chances were he’d hate him, like most other smug scientists he’d known.

~.*.~

 


	10. SF: Experiments in Socialization

 

 

**- <SF>-**

More often than not, Skyfire took his energon alone. Occasionally he was joined by the Cassettes or other curious mecha. Some were pleasant company, others less so. As a whole, though, the Decepticons had fought together for many vorns, and they were largely suspicious of Skyfire’s presence. Skyfire didn’t mind overly much. He’d always been better at observing than socializing anyway.

Several new Seekers poured into the rec room, grimy and somewhat scorched.  Returning patrols, most likely. They must have gotten into a scuffle with the… Autobots, was it? Whatever their opponents called themselves. Most of them were undamaged, save for small scrapes their self-repair could easily handle. One, though, a streamline green mech, had his wing angled oddly, as though the joint had been damaged. Concerned, Skyfire leaned forward for a better look. A ragged tear ran down the center of the Seeker’s wing, dangerously close to the joint. The surrounding plating was scorched deeply enough to destroy the color nanites.

Taking a deep gulp of energon, Skyfire tried to ignore it. The stranger wasn’t his problem. Yet... he couldn’t stop glancing over. Wounds like that shouldn’t be allowed to fester. Especially not wing damage.

Finally, Skyfire gave in. Subspacing his half-empty cube, he walked over.  A few mecha stared, cautious of his size, but most simply ignored him. He paused behind the green Seeker, who hadn’t noticed his arrival, before tapping his undamaged shoulder.

 The Seeker jumped and spun around, baring his teeth and wings, though the motion must have irritated the damage.  “Who the slag are you?” he spat.

Skyfire backed up, holding his hands up in supplication. “You’re hurt,” he said simply. “I have some medical training. I can help, if you wish.”

Instead of abating, the Seeker’s wary suspicion only grew. “What are you trying to play at?”

Before Skyfire could answer, the Seeker was joined by two more: his Trinemates. They flanked their damaged member protectively, blocking his damaged wing entirely from view.  “I think you should leave,” one of them growled. His claws were out—the other two’s as well.

Skyfire just nodded and stepped away. “As you wish,” he said softly. Then, ignoring their dumbstruck expressions, he turned to go. Before he made it a dozen steps, one of them called out—the green mech.

“Wait.”

Skyfire stopped. The damaged Seeker was staring at him, arms crossed. He had a wary edge to his frame, but it wasn’t outright aggressive anymore.

“Any funny business, and I’ll eviscerate you myself,” the Seeker warned.

Skyfire nodded. With both Trinemates watching his every move, he repaired the damage and applied a pain patch. Then he left. He finished his cube alone, in the too-small quarters he’d been assigned. He’d never even learned the green mech’s designation.

Still... Skyfire smiled as he flipped through a datapad, one of several historical ones he'd found. He'd done something good today. He'd really  _helped_ someone, for the first time since he'd woken up.

It was a good feeling.

~.*.~


	11. SS: Younglings

**- >SS<-**

Slaggit, but Sideswipe had been right. Wheeljack was _fantastic._ He had a seemingly unlimited knowledge of explosives, was obnoxiously cheerful, and didn’t even mention the wings, except to ask whether they got in the way during experiments. Which they, of course, did not.

Best of all, he was the exact opposite of Skyfire, in frame and personality. Starscream tried not to think of the Shuttle.

He hadn’t been successful yet, but he still tried.

During his first meeting with Wheeljack, a foul smelling vial of green liquid bubbled over, coating the table and actually burning through in several places. It had required a full contamination lockdown, a barrel of counteragent almost as big as they were, and a screaming—and highly entertaining—rant from Ratchet before the labs were under control again.

The entire debacle had been the most interesting thing to happen since he’d woken up. He’d immediately set out to spend more time in the labs which, even without Wheeljack, were far better than the tediousness of his empty quarters. 

“How are you settling in on the Ark? Anyone giving you trouble?” Wheeljack asked.

Starscream stilled, biting back a litany of curses that wanted to escape. So Wheeljack wanted to talk about _feelings._ And it had been going so well, too.

“It’s fine,” Starscream bit out, hoping Wheeljack would let the matter drop.

Either Wheeljack was more stubborn than Starscream had guessed or he was just as oblivious as he seemed, because he kept talking. “You sure?” he asked. “Cause the ship has been together for a long time, and we can be a rather insular group. Some mecha don’t take well to strangers anymore.”

Starscream grit his teeth. “Yes. I’m sure,” he growled. “Believe me, I get the _exact_ amount of interaction I desire.” Which, most of the time, was quite low.

Wheeljack nodded, seemingly unconvinced, but he dropped the subject. Judging by the determined glow of his vocal indicators, Starscream would soon face a barrage of well intentioned, entirely unwelcome Autobots looking to ‘keep him company.’ He could hardly wait _._

The door to the labs slid open, and Starscream—very, very quietly—groaned. He resolutely ignored the sound of more mecha—several of them, by the sound of it—entering the room and chattering loudly amongst themselves. They made a beeline directly for Wheeljack. Starscream kept working. He didn’t even glance around, hoping the new mecha would ignore him just as thoroughly as he was trying to do for them.

Then one of them brushed past him, close enough to feel the mech’s field briefly against his own, and Starscream dropped the converter he’d been holding.

The field was _young._ Immature and still unsettled, it mingled briefly with Starscream’s field in easy, uncomplicated curiosity and welcome.

Starscream turned. And he saw wings.

Seekerlings. There were slagging _Seekerlings_ here. Four of them, and with an odd Shuttle in their midst. They crowded around Wheeljack in unbridled joy, with bright optics and relaxed wings.

“Ah, slag,” Starscream whispered, low enough nobody else heard. But he didn’t look away from the Seekerlings.

Eventually, he moved closer.

…

The Seekerlings were younger than he’d imagined, barely a stellar cycle old. They were being raised by Grounders, had never even talked with another Seeker before, and were very, very excited about having Starscream in the Ark.

Primus help him, they were adorable.

Starscream had never been much for younglings, but he’d also never seen any so young or enthusiastic about meeting other Flyers. Once he showed them interest—and mentioned his flying skills a bit—he was mobbed by brightly colored Seekerlings with cheerful questions about flying and Seekers and himself. Starscream wasn’t sure whether to be overwhelmed or flattered, but the latter was quickly winning out.

He glanced to the side, where Wheeljack was watching the pack of Younglings with a fond glint in his optics. At Starscream’s look, he laughed and stepped forwards. “C’mon, guys. Let’s give Starscream some space, alright?”

Grumbling, the Younglings stepped back.

“Promise you’ll fly with us sometime?” One of them—Fireflight, he thinks—asked. The others clamored in agreement.

Starscream hesitated. Then he nodded. “Sure,” he muttered. “Eventually.”  He left before the Seekerlings could coerce any other promises out of him, somewhat rattled and wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

_~.*.~_


	12. SF: Younglings

**- <SF>-**

Skyfire was walking down the hallway when he heard tires squealing. He sighed and stepped to the side, waiting for them to pass. He didn’t have to wait long, and he was serenaded by a colorful diatribe of curses while he did.  Two streamline racers zoomed past him, pursued by a large truck. They passed close enough to buffet him with air. He glimpsed their fields and snapped to attention.

_Young,_ he thought. _Very young._

All three of them had the spark signature of newly ignited Younglings. Annoyance tugged at him spark. Somebody was in charge of these younglings. That someone was also doing a _very_ poor job of teaching them what was appropriate.

One of the younglings crashed into a wall, spinning out and colliding spectacularly with the second. Disoriented, both transformed back into their root mode just in time for the truck to reach them. The next breem was chaotic and noisy and _disruptive_ as all three Younglings started shouting at each other. Then the Truckformer raised his fist and took a swing at the other. Skyfire stepped in.

“Children!” he shouted in his most authoritative voice. “That is enough! Where’s your Caretaker?”

All three stopped shouting and stared at him. “The slag are you?” The black Truckformer asked.

“Hey, he’s the new guy, isn’t he?” the bright red one asked. “The civvie the Seekers dragged in. Get lost, Shuttle! We’re busy here.” He tried to turn away, just in time for the Truck to lunge at him again, having apparently decided to ignore Skyfire. Red yelped as the blow landed, and Skyfire grabbed the other's shoulder, pulling him away.

“I _said-_ ”

The mech charged at him instead, fists swinging.

Skyfire was almost impressed. He was good— _quite_ good—for a youngling, but he lacked experience. And Skyfire had been partnered with Starscream for decavorns, who had dragged him into more scraps than he could count. He hated fighting, but he knew how to defend himself. So when the Truck lunged at him, Skyfire neatly sidestepped him, grabbed his wrist with one hand and his neck with the other, and pinned him to the wall.

The mech was large and built for battle, but Skyfire was larger. He maintained his leverage and didn’t give him an opening to break free.

“That’s enough, Youngling,” Skyfire ordered. “Clearly your Caretaker has been negligent in their duty. You do not use your alt-mode inside. You do not attack others, your age or older. Common cutesy-”

The mech struggled violently against him. “Slag you, let me go or I’ll-”

“ _I am not done talking!_ ” Skyfire snapped.

The youngling’s field fluctuated wildly, filled with anger and embarrassment. This close, it was easy for Skyfire to envelop it with his own field. The young field yielded easily to his own, and Skyfire pushed his own calmness at him until the sharp edges evened out. The kid stopped struggling with a surprised sound. Skyfire wondered if anyone had ever done calmed his field for him before. He hoped so.

Younglings needed help. They needed to learn how to control their spark and regulate their field, needed to be taught by their Caretakers and elders. It was why they tended to be so erratic, especially before their first vorn.

When the younger mech didn’t start fighting again, Skyfire carefully released him and stepped back.

“What’s your designation?” Skyfire asked. The mech’s optics seemed slightly unfocused, and he looked more confused than anything.

“Motormaster.”

Skyfire nodded. He settled in for a long lecture. He’d gotten quite good at them in Iacon, not that Starscream had ever listened. Before he could begin, the other two leaned closer. One even poked Motormaster and got a halfhearted swat in response.

“What’d ya do?” Red asked, staring at both of them with brightened optics. “He feels… weird.” The Racer seemed calmer too, albeit somewhat disturbed.

“Feel?” Skyfire echoed. “Are you three…” They were far too young to be Sparkbound—their sparks weren’t nearly mature enough—but they were definitely acting like there was something there.  Gestalt, perhaps? They were rare, but it would explain quite a bit.

“What’s your designation?” Skyfire asked.

“Wildrider,” he said. “And this is Breakdown. Don’t stare at him or I’ll gut you.”

Smiling despite himself, Skyfire answered. “I regulated his field for him. At this age, your Caretaker should be doing it regularly.” Placing one hand on Wildrider’s shoulder—and ignoring his yelp at the touch—Skyfire did the same to him. Wildrider’s frame wasn’t nearly as chaotic as Motormaster’s had been, though he still looked decidedly confused afterwards.

When Skyfire turned to Breakdown, the blue Racer backed away, looking ready to bolt. “Stay away! Don’t you pull your— your voodoo witchcraft on me!”

Wildrider waved a hand at him and ambled over, slinging one arm around his shoulders. “Nah, s’cool, Breakdown. Feels kinda good. Weird though.”

Breakdown didn’t look convinced but, when Skyfire held out his hand, Breakdown cautiously took it.

Unlike his brothers, Breakdown’s field was focused internally and held much too tight against his frame. Skyfire coaxed it carefully free, encouraging it to mix with his brothers. Now that he could feel their fields together, they definitely were Gestalt. He reinforced the field as much as he could, trying to coax forward confidence and steady the fluctuations.

When he was done, he pushed the three Younglings together and finally let loose the lecture that had been building in the back of his processer since he first saw them. They listened.

_~.*.~_


	13. Young Stalkers

->SS<-

The Aerialbots were stalking him again.

Starscream wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or disturbed that he’d gained an entire Gestalt’s worth of stalkers. He was something at least, and right then that something was displeased. At least it wasn’t all five of them this time. There were only two—Fireflight and Silverbolt—and they were at least quiet about it. When the entire gestalt was following him around and completely failing at subtlety, the amount of attention it drew made him want to scream. Apparently other mecha found it cute. Slaggers.

Starscream took another sip of energon and pretended he didn’t hear them whispering in the corner of the rec room. He glanced over, and the two Seekerlings immediately looked away, pretending they hadn’t been caught ogling him. They weren’t good actors. He’d intentionally visited the rec-room at an off time, hoping to find some peace while he refueled. Then the Seekerlings had snuck in. He looked over one more time. Their wings were actually vibrating in excitement.

At least they were cute.

Draining the last of his cube, Starscream stood. As he walked away, he heard the clattering of two light sets of feet rushing after him. Starscream stopped once he reached the hallway and, leaning against a wall, waited. The Seekerlings stumbled to a stop at the sight of him.

“Well?” Starscream asked. “What is it?”

The Younglings really needed to work on their poker face; their panic was obvious. “Nothing?” Fireflight drawled, turning the answer into a question.

Starscream snorted. “Sure. That’s why your whole crew has been following me for an orn. If there’s something you want, then say it already!”

The two Seekerlings looked at each other. For a moment, Starscream thought they would turn and run, but then Skydive stepped awkwardly forward.

“What was Vos like?” he blurted out.

“What?”

“Vos. The… the Flyer city,” he fidgeted, looking at the ground instead of Starscream. “There’s barely anything left from before the war, and I just… I was curious. I tried asking others about it but even Wheeljack got all weird about it. People don’t like talking about the old Decepticon cities.”

The question caught Starscream completely off guard. He’d expected… Well. He’d expected accusations or offensive requests after the way they’d been skulking about. Not nervous questions from Seekerlings being raised by Grounders, of all things.  
Starscream sighed and looked away. “Kid, I’m really not the best mecha to talk to,” he said. “I wasn’t from Vos. Didn’t spend much time there, honestly.”

Both Seekerlings looked up at that, surprised. “But I thought all Seekers lived in Vos!” Fireflight said.  
Starscream winced. “Not all. Just… most. It was a Trine thing.”

Most Seekers stayed beside their Trinemates for their entire lives. Then you added in bondmates and Creator bonds, and the city turned into one big web of social connections that sucked mecha in and kept them there. They didn’t even realize how slagging strange it was to be so tied down to one place.

“Well, what about yours then? Your wingmates?”

“Fireflight!” Skydive hissed, horrified. “Don’t be rude, they’re probably-”

“It’s fine,” Starscream cut in. “I didn’t have Trinemates.” Which, right now, he was slagging grateful for. He couldn’t imagine waking up with spark damage on top of everything else. “I lived in Iacon, not Vos. If I have them, I never met ‘em.”

He shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal, but other Flyers—especially Seekers—tended to freak out when they realized he was Untrined. They’d acted like lacking Trinemates was some horrible fate. Being Untrined was rare, but it wasn’t a disease or some slagging disability. His Spark had been perfectly stable on its own. Then, with Skyfire, he’d been—

Starscream cut that thought off.

“You guys were sparked together, right?” he said. “Same time, same place, already spark-linked?” At Fireflight’s nod, he continued. “That’s ‘cause you’re a Gestalt. Regular Seekers are different. Most don’t find their Trinemates until their spark matures. Some just… never find a Match.”

Both Fireflight and Skydive looked thunderstruck by that revelation, as if the thought of being sparked alone had never even occurred to them. Fireflight looked like he was about to cry.

“That’s horrible!” he exclaimed. “What if you were sparked in two different cities and never met each other? Your Trinemates could have been in Vos and you never found them!”

Younglings, Starscream reminded himself. They were young, and stupid, and curious. They weren’t intentionally trying to start a fight.

“Maybe,” he said, struggling to keep his voice level. “Or maybe they didn’t exist.”

“But what if-”

“That’s enough, kid,” he snapped. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand!”

(because he’d tried, once upon a time. Before Skyfire and before the Academy, when he’d been new to his adult frame and had wanted. Vos had vornly festivals for the Untrined, and he’d thought… But even then, he’d been one of the oldest mecha there. He’d endured the whispers and pitying glances for a couple festivals without feeling the slightest hint of the Pull. Then he’d gone back to Iacon for good.)

Fireflight shrank back at the sound of his displeasure. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just… I cant imagine being alone.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Starscream said, anger fading at the visibly contrite Younglings. “Just don’t-”

He was interrupted as a Shuttle came barreling down the hallway. For one heart stopping moment, Starscream saw white and red and thought- But no. Of course not. Skyfire was—He wasn’t here, and Silverbolt skidded to a stop in front of them.

“What are you two doing!” he shouted at Fireflight and Skydive. “You know what Wheeljack said. You’re not supposed to bother him!”

Both Seekerlings wilted under the reprimand. Skydive mumbled some sort of excuse, and Silverbolt puffed up in righteous indignation. Then he started in on a lecture, something about politeness and responsibility and all that slag. Starscream didn’t pay much attention.

Before Silverbolt could really gather steam, Starscream cut in. “So, Wheeljack ordered you not to bother me?”

This time, Silverbolt was the one to hesitate. Apparently it was supposed to be a secret. He nodded uncomfortably and said, “Wheeljack wanted to make sure you were comfortable first. We can get pretty… exuberant sometimes. And we were all real excited ‘bout having a Seeker here.”

“So the five of you thought the best way to avoid ‘bothering’ me was to constantly follow me around without saying anything?”

“Yes?”

“It didn’t work.”

He hated being stared at. It usually meant someone was too cowardly to say something to his face. Still, he almost had to give the Younglings credit for such a well-intentioned failure.

“Sorry,” Silverbolt said. “We’ll just-” He grabbed his Brothers by the arms and started pulling them away. Fireflight baulked.

“But Silverbolt, I didn’t even get to ask about the Skydances!” he whined.

There was honest disappointment in his voice, more than Starscream would have expected. Skydive looked crestfallen as well, though he was better t hiding it. And, well… they just looked so pathetic. And it wasn’t like the Sky Dances or normal festivals were a personal subject; it hadn’t been the culture or its celebrations he’d had trouble with.

He was probably going to regret it later, but… “It’s fine,” Starscream said. “I can tell you about the Sky dances. And next time, if you want something, just ask instead of wasting both our time.”

He might be the worst possible Seeker to explain Flyer culture, but at least he knew the basics. He’d seen Skydancers and Storm Flights. He’d been to Vos and its sister-city, Praxus, in the Golden Age. Things those Grounders would never understand.

They should know at least some of their heritage. If he was the best they’d get… we’ll, he’d never been one to back down from a challenge.


	14. SF: Young Stalkers

-<SF>-

Once the fuss of his arrival and settling into the ship died down, Skyfire found himself with far too much free time and too little to fill it. He was a social mech at spark and had never done well alone. Without Starscream by his side, his quarters were empty and the cycles monotonous. Silence grated on him, and boredom was even worse. His shift doing grunt work in the labs barely helped, as those cycles tended towards emptiness or explosive outbursts.

Out of necessity, Skyfire frequently found himself towards in the rec-room. The company wasn’t always the best and fights broke out with distressing regularity, but it was loud and interesting and, most importantly, distracting. A few mecha approached him regarding injuries though, for some reason, none of them would outright say what they wanted. Oddly enough, they seemed to treat asking for repairs like it was some great, sordid secret.

Skyfire had just promised a Seeker a meeting to recalibrate glitching flight sensors and was enjoying his datapad—an interesting analysis from the beginning of the war—when the ambulant noise in the room abruptly dropped. He looked up to see four mecha marching towards him with Motormaster at the head. The two Younglings from before were behind him, and the remaining two presumably completed their gestalt. On his left, a mech started collecting bets. Most of them involved a fight and rather explicit physical damage, namely to him. Skyfire was not impressed.

Skyfire smiled at the Younglings as they grew close. “Motormaster. Wildrider. Breakdown,” he said, greeting the three in turn as they stopped in front of him. To the remaining two, he said, “I’m afraid I don’t know your designations. How may I help you?”

Skyfire received five identical looks of confusion for his trouble and no names. Scowling, Motormaster stepped forward until Skyfire had to look up to meet his optics

“Fight me,” he said.

“What?”

Motormaster lunged forward another step. “I said, fight me!”

Skyfire looked at the bristling Younglings. He looked at the rest of the room, where over a dozen eager mecha were watching, waiting for a spectacle. He made a decision.

“No,” he said. Then he picked up his datapad, stood, and walked away. The room was dead silent as the budding anticipation turned into confusion. He’d almost reached the door when heavy footsteps caught up to him.

“You can’t do that!” Motormaster said as he followed him into the hallway. “It’s a fight! You’re not allowed to say no!”  
Skyfire kept the group in his peripherals, but Motormaster didn’t try to attack him. Instead he seemed confused, like Skyfire had done something completely incomprehensible by ignoring his challenge.

“I just did,” he said mildly. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Apparently, politeness rendered the Younglings speechless. Motormaster made a few other aborted attempts at conversation before looking back at the others for backup. Just as confused as he, they weren’t much help. Skyfire didn’t stop walking, and the five mecha trailed after him as he turned towards his quarters. The Gestalt whispered furiously among themselves, quietly enough that Skyfire couldn’t understand. They were still whispering when Skyfire reached the door to his quarters.

“If there’s nothing else you wanted…” he started, hand moving towards the keypad.

Before he could complete the motion, Wildrider stepped forward. He squinted up at Skyfire, hands on his hips and equally as bold as his Leader despite his smaller size.“Somebody said you do repairs for free. Izzat true?” he said.  
Skyfire nodded. “I have some first aid knowledge. Are you hurt?”

“No, but Dead End busted his shoulder. Can you fix it?”

Motormaster rounded on his brother, shouting something about keeping his mouth shut and not betraying weakness, but Skyfire ignored him. He had an injured Youngling to worry about. The white and red one—Dead end?—was definitely holding his left arm awkwardly.

Dead End flinched away when Skyfire stepped forward, but he let the Shuttle lift his arm for inspection. Motormaster grumbled his displeasure, and the other four fell silent.

“It looks like you dented some plating. It’s pressing on your neural network,” he said. “I have a med-kit in my quarters that I could fix it with.”

Reaching back blindly, he keyed open the door and pulled Dead End through, careful not to put pressure on his shoulder. The other four trailed after their brother to stand in the center of the room, still arguing, as he rummaged for his med-kit.

“You can sit down,” Skyfire said, motioning towards a few rickety chairs. He joined them soon enough, laying the kit on the thin table beside them. The kit was a simple one, left over from his time as an Explorer, but it was well stocked for basic repairs. Kneeling beside Dead End, Skyfire started to work.

The Youngling’s field was a mess of nerves with a heavy, bleak edge. Absentmindedly, Skyfire smoothed Dead End’s field until it was flowing freely again. Dead End jumped and started squirming under Skyfire’s hand.

“He’s doing it again!” he shouted. “The field thing! He’s doing it!”

Skyfire, who had inserted a basic probe under a seam in Dead End’s plating, almost lost his grip. He bumped against a sensor node, hard enough to make Dead End gasp. “Careful!” Skyfire said. “Please don’t move until I’m done.”

Dead End immediately stilled. Skyfire returned to carefully pulling the dented plating away from his neural network. He slowly smoothed the metal back into shape, careful to keep the pressure off of his sensor net. It was tedious work, but eventually the Youngling’s shoulder rotated smoothly again. The metal was scuffed and faintly warped, but self-repair would take care of that.

Skyfire tucked the tools back into the med-kit. Then he looked up and registered the five mecha staring at him. Caught up in the repairs, Skyfire had almost forgotten about his audience. Motormaster had claimed the largest chair and was moping atop it, glaring at Skyfire in the familiar, sullen manner of a thwarted Youngling. He wondered whether the mech would forgive him for disrupting his original plan for the evening. The other four, thankfully, ranged from boredom to curiosity.

The yellow one—Skyfire still didn’t know his designation—poked Dead End’s shoulder, earning himself a halfhearted swat in response.

“Weird,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt him happy before.”

Based on his field, Skyfire wouldn’t quite call Dead End happy. The endless pessimism from before had abated, at least, leaving his field calm. Another poke earned a more animated swat. Then Yellow looked back at Skyfire.

“Izzis what you’ve been doing? Doctor stuff?” he asked.

It took a moment for Skyfire to realize what he was talking about. Then he smiled. “Not quite. I regulated their fields for them. It helps settle your spark. At your age, an adult should be helping you every couple orns so you don’t get off-balance.”

Yellow glanced at Motormaster. Then he stuck out his hand. “Do me! I wanna know what it feels like!”

Skyfire reached down, placed his hand on the Youngling’s shoulder, and coaxed his field down into a steady pulse. The mech made a soft sound of surprise and relaxed.

“What’s your designation?” Skyfire asked. He finished and lifted his hand away. The Youngling was took distracted to even notice.

“Drag Strip,” the mech mumbled. “That feels really weird. Nice? I think?”

Skyfire nodded. “This is what your field should feel like. Most Younglings get the hang of regulating their own field within a quarter vorn or so. Until then, you should find someone to help whenever you start getting unbalanced.”

Drag Strip was staring at his hand in fascination, having probably not heard a word Skyfire said. He grabbed Dead End’s arm, letting their field mesh together.

“Cool!” he said. He motioned towards Wildrider and Breakdown. “C’mon, do yours too! I wanna try combining like this, it’ll be awesome!”

Wildrider immediately held out his hand. With a little coaxing, so did Breakdown. Skyfire obligingly reached for their fields. They didn’t need much adjustment this time, and then the four mecha clustered together, enjoying how easily their fields meshed now. For a Gestalt, the sensation must have been wonderful.

“Do your best to remember what this feels like, and practice holding it this way when you can. It’ll help,” Skyfire said.

He held his hand towards Motormaster, offering to do his too. Motormaster glared at him until he put his hand down. Skyfire repressed a smile. The mech was oddly cute when he was sulking. The other four were growing louder, jockeying each other and grinning. Wildrider said something to Drag Strip and almost got tackled, and Skyfire raised his voice.

“Leave your roughhousing for outside,” he reminded them. “And no racing in the hallways

He was waved off, as he suspected he would, but they did grow quieter. It seemed something of his earlier lecture had stuck in their processer, at least. They gathered towards the door, slightly subdued but still relatively rowdy. Hopefully they would wait until they left the ship to really let loose. They migrated towards the door. As they prepared to leave, Skyfire hesitated.

“Feel free to come back,” Skyfire said. “If you need something—repairs, field regulation, answers---then let me know. I’ll do what I can to help.”

Motormaster grunted. “Whatever,” he said.

And then they were gone, leaving Skyfire alone in his apartment. After a few breems, he took his datapad out again. He considered returning to the rec-room but quickly dismissed the thought. Best to wait a solar cycle for any rumors to die down. Besides, after having a Gestalt inside it, his room didn’t feel quite so empty anymore.

 


	15. SS: Movie Night

->SS<-

  
The common room during movie night was even worse than mealtimes were. It seemed like the entire base turned out for them, leaving almost every seat full and the noise level deafening. The ‘movies’ were largely local creations, chosen for novelty more than quality, and he doubted half the room paid them any attention. The rest were just there to socialize.

  
Normally, Starscream would have cheerfully eviscerated himself before entering of his own volition. As it was, he barely understood how he’d ended up there at all, save that Bluestreak and the Twins had all been involved. He’d garnered several looks when they’d entered, and he almost turned around and marched right back out. Instead, he somehow found himself sitting in one of the chairs. He was still halfheartedly considering escape when the Twins handed him a container of disturbingly vibrant energon goodies and sat down, boxing him in with their frames.

“Not a fan of crowds?” Sideswipe asked, nudging at Starscream’s shoulder. At least he left the wings alone.

Starscream glared at him. “Not a fan of people,” he grumbled. He didn’t mean for the Twins to hear, but their audios were more sensitive than he expected.

Instead of being insulted, Sideswipe laughed. “I don’t know ‘bout that,” he said. “Seems to me like you’ve been charming mecha all over the place. Blue keeps rambling ‘bout ya, and you’ve got an entire Gestalt fulla Littles following ya everywhere.”

Starscream’s first instinct was to punch Sideswipe for making fun of him. Yet, there wasn’t any malice in his face or tone, only humor and an open smile. Seemed he was being serious. Strange.

“I know a lotta mecha who would’ve disagreed with you. Especially about the charming bit.” He’d been called many things in his life, some of them even pleasant, but never charming. He’d never cared enough about pandering to the ignorant masses for that.

Sideswipe swung an arm over Starscream’s shoulders. “Aw, don’t say that. You know the munchkins will get all anxious if they hear you talking like that. They’re sensitive little buggers, an’ they like you.”

Starscream stiffened under Sideswipe’s arm and tried to subtly wiggle free. Sideswipe’s grip didn’t budge, and Starscream gave up before he started looking foolish. The weight wasn’t uncomfortable, just… close. He didn’t let many mecha near enough for physical contact, especially not grounders, but the Twins weren’t unbearable. Especially Sunstreaker. He could respect a mech who didn’t waste time on pleasantries and could scare off mecha with a single glower.

Somebody called his name. Starscream turned, annoyed, to find Wheeljack waving enthusiastically at him from across the room. The Younglings weren’t with him, though the old medic, Ratchet, was sitting beside him. Starscream’s annoyance lessened, though it didn’t entirely disappear. Wheeljack was decent company. Maybe he’d speak with him after the movie; fill his socialization quota for the orn. Before he could sit down again, someone brushed against his wing. Starscream jerked away.

“Watch it!” he said, glaring behind him. There was a solid wall of Grounders behind him. None of them fessed up to the contact, accidental or otherwise. Growling, Starscream subsided against his seat again.

He could hear them whispering about him after he looked away. Starscream gritted his teeth and ignored them. He had practice, after all. Since he’d arrived, he’d been ignoring rumors about him and the subtle—or not so subtle—glances at his wings. He was used to being talked about. That didn’t make it less annoying.

“They act like they’ve never seen a Seeker before,” he grumbled.

Silence. The Twins exchanged glances.

“What?” Starscream snapped.

“Well…” Sideswipe said. “Most all the Seekers sided with the ‘Cons early in the war, an’ none came to the Autobots. Past couple decavorns, we’ve only really seen Seekers from across the battlefield. Not really the best way to learn ‘bout a frametype.”

Starscream dug his fingers into his seat to avoid digging them into something worse. Like the face of the minibot behind them. “That’s just fantastic,” he said. “I’m surrounded by Grounders even more ignorant about Seekers than the slaggers back in Iacon.”  
He crossed his arms and glared straight ahead, fuming. He wasn’t disappointed or even surprised, but still. Dealing with them would be aggravating, and he didn’t have anyone to properly commiserate with this time. If he’d expected the Twins to politely ignore his foul mood, he would have been disappointed.

“Wanna leave?” Sideswipe asked. “Blue’s got a pretty sweet setup in his quarters if ya’d rather avoid the crowds.”

Tempting, but… “No,” Starscream said. “I’m staying.”

The gossiping mecha obviously wanted him to leave, so that was the last thing he’d do. He certainly wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of thinking they’d driven him off.

Starscream bit into an energon goodie and stared straight ahead at the screen. This ‘movie’ was starting, and Starscream was determined to stay until the end, no matter how inane it turned out to be.

.*.


	16. SF: Exploring the Base

-<SF>-

  
The Decepticons were acting rather… strange. Not all of them, of course—most still completely ignored his existence—but enough for Skyfire to notice. Odd looks in the rec-room. Occasional gossip involving his name and the Stunticons. He hadn’t spoken with the Younglings since that night, though he had occasionally seen them around the ship. He hoped they were doing alright.

Skyfire quickly grew tired of the attention. After the first awkward cycle, taking a break until the rumor die down sounded like a wonderful idea. To fill his free time, Skyfire took to walking around the base. Even avoiding the more populated areas, there was quite a bit to explore. The core part of the base was centered in the remains of a crashed ship, but extra rooms and passageways had been haphazardly added on until it resembled a maze more than a military encampment.

Thus far, exploring the outskirts of the base had been a pleasant distraction. He’d stumbled across several interesting things hidden away, including some old prototypes and a high-grade still. He left a few suggestions at the still and continued walking. On occasion, he’d run into another mech. Skyfire wouldn’t have minded stopping to chat for a bit, but they always seemed to be in a hurry. Eventually, he thought he might have the entire base mapped.

Skyfire looked up when he heard the heavy tread of a large mech approaching. The Grounder was large, only slightly smaller than Skyfire, and he looked furious. Skyfire recognized the scowl and purposeful stride from back when Starscream had been at the end of his temper and looking to start a fight. Skyfire immediately stepped to the side to let him pass.

At first, the mech barely spared him a glance. Something made him stop though, and he looked at Skyfire a second time. His optics narrowed in recognition, and the Grounder changed directions towards him. Skyfire hesitated, unsure what to do about the mech marching towards him.

“Can I help you?” Skyfire asked. “I’m afraid I-”

The mech grabbed his arm, tight enough to hurt, and yanked him forward. Without a word, he propelled Skyfire down the hallway he’d come out of. Skyfire nearly tripped before regaining his balance.

“Where are we going?” he asked when he got his breath back. He tried briefly to free his hand, but the other mech was stronger. His fingers tightened fractionally in warning, making Skyfire flinch.

“A member of my unit is injured. You’re going to repair him,” he said.

Skyfire stopped resisting. He wouldn’t refuse anyone who needed his help. He would have appreciated a more polite request, though.

“May I have your designation?” Skyfire asked. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Onslaught.”

Skyfire nodded. He knew he’d heard the name before, though he couldn’t place it. They were moving further into the base, down paths Skyfire hadn’t seen before. He glanced behind them. “My medical kit is in my quarters. I’ll need to--”

Onslaught interrupted him. “All necessary materials will be provided for you,” he said.

Skyfire fell silent at his tone. The mech sounded like he was used to giving orders and to having them followed. He also seemed like he might get upset about being questioned. By then, he was somewhat lost and starting to question the stability of the area. It seemed to be in disrepair, with rust creeping up the walls and the occasional puddle of water stagnating on the floor.

Onslaught stopped in front of a large door and pulled it open. He pushed Skyfire inside. The room was large, almost bigger than the main rec-room, and stacked with storage containers. The center of the room had been cleared, making room for a low table and several chairs in a makeshift common area.

Another Grounder, almost as large as Onslaught, sat on a chair with his leg splayed out in front of him. The knee joint had been thoroughly crushed. A third mech—a Rotary—stood beside him. They were trading what sounded like insults, though both fell silent at their entrance.

“Found a medic,” Onslaught grunted. He gave Skyfire a push forward. “Fix him.”

The Rotary took one look at Skyfire and started cackling. “You grabbed the new mech?” he said. “The one even Thundercracker fobbed off as useless?”

“That’s enough, Vortex,” Onslaught snapped.

He said more, something about orders and respect, but Skyfire had stopped listening. He approached the injured mech, eyeing his knee with trepidation. He knew the basic mechanics, of course, but he’d never needed to fix a major injury before. Only minor damage and basic maintenance.

“I only have Tier 5 medical qualification,” Skyfire said. “This may be beyond my abilities.”

Onslaught crossed his arm. Despite his slightly smaller stature, he loomed over Skyfire. “You will fix him,” he said. It sounded like a threat.

“Surely an official medic, like Hook, would-”

“Hook isn’t an option. Megatron made sure of that.” He spat the name like a curse.

Skyfire winced. He’d heard rumors about Megatron withholding medical treatment from mecha who disappointed him, but he hadn’t quite believed it. He took a deep breath. Then Skyfire sat down next to the injured Grounder. Medical supplies had been left on the table, just like Onslaught had promised.

“I cannot promise the repairs will hold up, but I’ll try,” he said. Onslaught grunted in reply, and Skyfire started to work.

…

Skyfire’s arms were shaking when he left the room. Nobody offered to guide him back to a familiar section of the ship, and Skyfire hadn’t asked. He didn’t enjoy speaking ill of others, but being alone with the three of them… It had put him on edge.

The repairs had been functional. Not elegant by any means and he suspected they would need professional adjustment soon, but they had held. Skyfire was rather proud of himself for that, actually. Even though the effort had left him drained.

A headache was building in the back of his processer. He halfheartedly debated continuing his exploration, but the thought had lost its shine for the moment. Right then, returning to his quarters and resting sounded like the best option. Of course, he had to figure out where he was first. He kept walking. Eventually, he heard someone laughing.

“Hello?” Skyfire called, moving towards the sound. “Excuse me, I’m afraid I may be...”

He turned the corner and paused. The hallway was empty. He looked around again, even glanced behind him, and nothing. He’d been sure he’d heard someone. He hadn’t thought sound carried that well down here, but maybe he was-

Something clattered above his head, and Skyfire looked up. Two small helms peered back at him from a hole in the ceiling.

“Wouldja look at that!” Rumble said, grinning down at him. “Skyfire! Haven’t run into you in a while. How’s it hanging?”

Skyfire blinked up at them. It took a moment for him to recover from his surprise. “I… Fine, I’m doing fine. Why are you two…”  
Frenzy shushed him. “Don’t worry ‘bout it! ‘S a secret, yeah?”

Reluctantly, Skyfire nodded along. The gesture seemed to please the Cassetticons, who swung out of their perch and dropped to the ground. Skyfire jerked forward as if to catch them, but they didn’t need his help. They landed easily, their reinforced plating easily handling the shock. Skyfire lowered his hands, embarrassed. He needed to get used to being around Warbuilds.

“I heard ya survived an encounter with Motormaster! Good on you!” Rumble said.

Skyfire nodded, unsure what to make of his tone. “I’ve run into the Gestalt a couple times now. They’re pleasant enough company, if a bit undisciplined. ”

“Pleasant?” Frenzy let out a short bark of laughter. “We’re talking ‘bout the same mecha, right? Ya know, Motormaster? The guy who once sent a mech to the medbay for laughing at him an’ barely listens to Megatron half the time? Honestly, I’m surprised they left ya in one piece.”

Skyfire frowned. “Violent or not, they’re still Younglings.”

The Cassetticons exchanged glances. Frenzy snorted. “Suuuure,” Rumble drawled. Tugging Frenzy with him, he turned around and started walking. “Well, we’ll let ya get back to whatever you were doing. We’ll catch ya around later!”

“Wait!” Skyfire said. “Before you go, which way is the rec-room?”

Rumble lazily pointed at a fork in the path ahead. “Just keep turning right and you’ll find it,” he said. “An’ if ya end up in the ocean, you’ve gone too far!”

Cackling, he and Frenzy took off running and disappeared into an access panel Skyfire hadn’t even noticed. Skyfire couldn’t help but smile as he watched them go. Strange as they were, he was fond of them. Shaking his head, Skyfire set off in the direction he’d pointed at. Some of the tension had faded from his frame during the conversation, and he felt almost normal again. Still not up to braving the rec-room again, but… soon.

.*.


	17. SS: Stargazing

**- >SS<-**

Starscream hated the mudball that had stolen his partner and decavorns of his life, but he couldn’t deny the night sky was beautiful. The thick atmosphere and high humidity gave the stars an ethereal glow. His wings ached to fly among the lowflung clouds and crisp bite of the wind. 

Not tonight. 

He hadn’t flown since he’d awoken. Since… Skyfire. Eventually he’d feel the pull of Sky Hunger, but… he couldn’t. Not yet.  

Tonight, he only watched, alone on the flat roof of the Ark. Unable to recharge, he’d left when the room started feeling like a cage. At least out here, he had the sky and illusion of freedom.  The silence was oddly soothing, free of mecha pestering him or asking questions. He could almost relax.  

“Hey, Star. Watcha doing up here?” 

Starscream stiffened at the sound of another’s voice, immediately losing that tenuous sense of peace. “Don’t call me that!” he snapped. Then he looked over. Immediately, he felt a slight twinge of guilt. Fireflight was staring up at him, along with his gestalt leader, Silverbolt. 

The Shuttle.   

Of fragging course. 

But he was still a youngling—they both were—and Fireflight looked as if he would burst into tears any moment. Apparently, he didn’t do well with reprimands. “I’m not mad at you, younglings,” Starscream said, struggling to keep his voice even. It was even the truth, oddly enough.  

Fireflight gave him a rather watery smile and clambered up beside him. Silverbolt joined them, though he was significantly louder as he settled down on the roof. Instead of looking up at the sky, both Aerialbots continued staring at him. 

“It’s late. What are you two still doing awake?” Starscream asked, barely glancing over at them. The young gestalt, of course, had a curfew—no leaving the Ark after nightfall. 

“I wanted to see the stars,” Fireflight answered shamelessly. ”Silverbolt said he’d come with me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Silverbolt cut in quickly. He actually looked guilty. “I know coming here is against the rules, but I-” 

Starscream snorted. “Like I give a slag about those rules.” He snorted. “Break them all you want. What do I care if two younglings want to go stargazing?” Then, of course, Fireflight looked at him with an unsettlingly gleeful glint in his optics, and Starscream quickly added, “Just stay on the Ark, and don’t do anything too stupid, alright?” 

The words felt strange on his tongue. Here he was, advising younglings about the rules. If Skyfire were here, he would have howled with laughter. But he wasn’t, and he hadn’t, so Starscream kept going. 

“Just stay quiet, okay?” he muttered. “I’m not in the mood to socialize.” 

Fireflight nodded eagerly and scooted over until their plating was touching. His field, light and cheerful, brushed gently against his. Starscream huffed but let the kid have his way, then his brother as well.  

Fireflight almost made it to a full breem before he lost control of his vocalizer again. “Why’d you come up here alone?” he asked, turning to face him. His field pushed harder, clumsily trying to sense more. “You feel sad. Why?” 

Anger flared in Starscream’s spark. He snapped his field tight against his plating, away from Fireflight’s childish probes. “I thought I told you to be quiet!” he snapped. “Don’t bring that up again!” 

Fireflight and Silverbolt both jerked, and their fields went haywire, uncertain and nervous and still seeking a partner. “I’m sorry,” they said, pressing tighter against his plating when his field remained out of reach. “We won’t say it again. Promise. Don’t be mad.”  

Starscream’s systems growled, but he let his anger be soothed by the youngling’s awkward attempts at comfort. He ignored the guilt from upsetting the younglings and said, “Fine. But this time, stay quiet!” 

They did. Eventually, Starscream relaxed his field again. The Younglings eagerly pressed back, too harsh at first then smoothing into something comfortable and calm. They watched the stars, fields mingling together. 

-/- 

A cycle later, both younglings were falling asleep beside him, and Starscream was no closer to joining them in recharge than when he’d first left the Ark. With a sigh, he stood and nudged the grumbling mecha until, rubbing their optics, they stood. “Red Alert will have conniptions if you spend all night here,” he said. Neither appeared awake enough to understand him, so he grabbed their arms and tugged them forward, to the edge of the roof. Fireflight wandered dazedly the entire way, though Silverbolt grew alert after the first few steps. 

He let Silverbolt take control of his brother.  Then, standing at the edge, he paused, staring upwards. Silverbolt shifted but said nothing.  

Then, haltingly, Starscream said, “I had a partner before, when we were exploring. I survived the ice. He didn’t. ”  

He left before he could see the pity on his face.

~.*.~

 


	18. SF: Politics and Offers

-<SF>- 

Skyfire’d had precious few chances to fly outside since he’d woken up. There was a war going on, after all, and their base was at the bottom of the ocean. It was a pity too; the planet was an interesting one. He enjoyed the unpredictability of the air currents and the fickle weather patterns. He wasn’t a daredevil, not like Starscream anyway, but he did enjoy a challenge. 

Of course, he would have enjoyed it more if he wasn’t running endless drills above the same, small stretch of ocean. 

Apparently, getting removed from combat didn’t get him out of drilling with the rest of the Flyers. Which was a shame, because they were all Seekers and trained soldiers, and Skyfire was… not. 

By the end, Thundercracker was looking rather frazzled from the challenge of trying to shoehorn a slow Shuttle into formations clearly designed for Seekers. Skyfire almost felt bad for him.  

Finally, they turned back towards the ship. Skyfire was so tired that he was barely disappointed he wouldn’t have a chance to really explore the nearby landmasses. The Seekers dispersed as soon as they landed, but Thundercracker stopped him. 

“A word, Skyfire?” he said. It wasn’t a question. 

Skyfire nodded, and he followed Thundercracker to a quiet corner of the room. 

“You’ve been causing a bit of a stir since you’re arrival,” he said. ”I heard you have some medical training and have been using it across base.” 

Skyfire dipped his head. "Just the basics," he said. 

"And you didn't inform me?" 

Skyfire hesitated. Thundercracker said it like he'd performed some great misstep. “I hadn’t believed I needed to,” he said. “It was only Level 5 certification—barely more than the basics—and was standard for all Interstellar Explorers. I assumed it was unimportant.” 

“It’s not.” 

Skyfire winced. “Ah,” he said. “My apologies.” 

He shifted under Thundercracker's gaze, uncomfortable, and waited for the Seeker to speak. For several long kliks, Thundercracker waited, as if organizing his thoughts, before starting to speak.  

"Most certified medics were Iacon trained," he said. "Few from that city joined the Decepticons, and we’ve always been short on trained medics. Most medics, Autobot or Decepticon, were also ill suited to battle. There are few left." 

Skyfire was speechless. "I... didn't know." 

Basic medical knowledge was hardly unusual, especially among scientists. A simple certification shouldn't have been notable. Particularly since they were at war; maybe _because_ they were. It was... rather distressing. 

Skyfire fidgeted, glancing longingly towards the hallway. "If I may," he started, turning away, but Thundercracker stopped him again. 

"I have another question for you," he said, "about your place in the ship hierarchy. Tell me, what have you noticed about the base politics?" 

"I don’t understand," Skyfire admitted. "Are you talking about ranks? As in High Command?" 

Thundercracker shook his head. His face was drawn in something that was almost physical pain. "Think smaller. More transient," he said. He looked at Skyfire as if waiting for an answer, but the Shuttle hesitated, confused. Thundercracker took pity on him. 

"I've heard about your altercation with the Stunticons, and the other Grounders who've begun approaching you. That's going to get worse." He paused, placing his words delicately. "You're very... accommodating. And a Civilian. There are many mecha here who will take advantage of that." 

Skyfire's mood, already poor from the failed flying practice, worsened. "I am willing to help anyone who comes to me for assistance," he said, voice tight. He might not be fully trained, but he had standards. 

Thundercracker wasn't impressed. "You're new, and you're a Civilian. You'll need protection. Eventually, you'll be forced to align yourself with a side, or they'll tear you apart." 

Skyfire frowned.  "I don't like playing politics," he said. "and I don't like what you're insinuating." 

"I'm pretty sure you'll like the next mech even less," Thundercracker said quietly. In a different, less dignified mech, Skyfire might have called it a grumble. Louder, he continued, "My offer is simple: give us preference when it comes to repairs. That's all. In return, I'll make it known you're still part of the Air Force and under my protection."  

Skyfire was familiar with mecha trying to manipulate him. He'd certainly gotten enough of it in Iacon, with mecha who thought big meant slow and stupid as well. Starscream  had delighted in meeting those mecha head-on and humiliating them; Skyfire had simply learned how to stay out of it. These mecha might be soldiers instead of scientists, but he still wasn’t interested in involving himself in their squabbling.   

“I appreciate the offer,” Skyfire said, “but I’m afraid I must decline.” 

Surprise crossed Thundercracker's face, though only for a moment. It was quickly hidden, replaced with mild, controlled disappointment. “You’re a Flyer. That makes you one of mine. We'd take care of you.” 

“I’m sure you would,” Skyfire agreed. To his surprise, he meant it. Thundercracker actually seemed genuine, in both his worry and his offer. “I’m still not interested” 

“As you wish. The offer remains open if you ever change your mind.” 

The dismissal was clear, and Thundercracker was already turning away, finished with the conversation. Skyfire hesitated, then called out one more time. 

“A question, please,” he said. “Are you familiar with a ’Copter named Vortex?” 

Thundercracker stilled. He turned back around. “Vortex is an interrogation specialist with a reputation for being rather… unhinged. I suggest you avoid drawing his attention for your own sake. Have you met him?” 

Skyfire nodded, unease churning in his spark. “I ran into him while performing some repairs on his teammate. Brawl, I believe?” 

Thundercracker’s lips thinned. “Be careful,” he said. “I strongly encourage you to consider my offer.” 

Skyfire watched as he left. He had no intention of handing Thundercracker that kind of control, regardless of how much he was starting to admire the Seeker. Yet... He'd be more careful. That much, at least, wouldn't oppose his morals. 

He made it back to his quarters without incident, grabbing an energon cube on his way.  His arrival drew  some notice, though not enough to trouble him. He still didn’t linger long like he used to. He’d never liked being the center of attention, and he could use some time alone with his thoughts. 

~.*.~

**AN:** So, sorry for the delay with the chapter! On the plus side, I've officially finished med-school primary and secondary applications! I'm hopeful that means a regular updates schedule again.


	19. SS: Healing

**- >SS<-** 

Something was wrong with Bluestreak. 

Starscream glared at the Praxian from across the table, energon cube half-forgotten in his hand. Bumblebee, an unnaturally cheerful minibot, had dragged him to the rec-room during normal hours before promptly disappearing into a gaggle of Grounders, leaving him with the Twins. Bluestreak was nestled in-between the two Frontliners, one on each side like sentinels. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were acting like their normal selves—rambunctious, probably contemplating something that would break a half dozen rules—but something felt different. Off. 

The three mecha often sat next to each other, but not usually _this_ close, with plating that almost touched. They'd also picked Starscream's usual table, as far away from other mecha as possible, instead of their usual one towards the center. Their backs were to the wall too; a defensive position. Starscream recognized it from experience. 

Bluestreak was, like usual, rambling about some drama between some other mecha and gesticulating wildly with one hand. Only one hand though. The other hung loosely by his side, half-hidden from sight by Sunstreaker's bulk. Before Starscream could reconsider, he drained the last of his energon, stood, and approached their table. He immediately felt the Twins' optics on him, watching, but Bluestreak didn't stop talking until Starscream grabbed his arm and turned it towards the light. 

Sunstreaker's hand landed on his wrist, tight enough to dent the plating, but Starscream had already seen the ragged gash across Bluestreak's forearm. Smaller scrapes marched down his arm and across his back, clean and smoothed yet largely untreated. 

"You're hurt," Starscream said. The wound was at least a few cycles old. Not very deep, but painful and visibly untreated. "What happened? And why haven't you seen Ratchet yet?" 

Bluestreak blinked up at him, surprised. Sideswipe answered for him. "We got caught up in a scuffle on patrol," he said. "Blue here got caught a bit flat-footed 'fore we managed to drive 'em off." 

"And Ratchet?" 

This time, Bluestreak found the words himself. "You don't have to worry, it's really not that bad!" he said, ignoring Starscream's sputtered denials about being concerned. "It doesn't hurt at all, and Ratchet's still busy with the injuries from the last battle. I don't mind waiting until he's done with the people that really need it!" 

Starscream leaned closer, brushing his fingers along the edge of the damage. Bluestreak flinched, and Sunstreaker growled a warning. 

"Do you even have a pain patch on this?" 

He didn't wait for an answer; obviously Bluestreak didn't. Huffing, Starscream pulled Bluestreaks' arm flat against the table, injury up, and started rifling through his subspace. 

Both Twins loomed over him in an obvious attempt at intimidation. Starscream ignored them, unimpressed. 

"What do you think you're-" Sideswipe started.  

"Hush," Starscream said, and he pulled out a basic painblocker from the small med-kit he kept there. He tossed it at Sideswipe's free hand. "Put this on him. It's a blocker; it'll help." 

Without waiting for an answer, Starscream activated a minor transformation in his finger, one of the only mods he had, to bring out a small, med-grade microwelder. It wasn't good for much, but he could weld the larger lines back together and close up the plating again. Basic repairs until Ratchet could patch the rest. With a shallow wound, it would certainly help. 

"I didn't know you had med training," Sideswipe said, watching with open curiosity as Starscream started to work. He was still holding the unused blocker, though Starscream had already started welding. It only took a glare and a prod for him to apply it to Bluestreak's arm. He was impressed; Bluestreak hadn't flinched at all. 

Starscream snorted. _"Pit,_ no, _"_ he said. "And the Academy woulda thrown a fit if they heard you talking 'bout me and medicine in the same sentence. Nah, I just had the basic training for Explorers. Besides, Sky-" he stopped, swallowed, and continued. "My... partner was always better at it anyway. I never had the patience for real repairs." 

He kept his head down and focused on Bluestreak's injury. Sideswipe didn't take the hint. "Partner?" He prodded. "Was that who-" 

"I don't want to talk about it!" Starscream said. The next weld was sloppier that the rest, and he took a moment to compose himself before continuing. He worked for the next breem in blessed silence, almost finishing, before Sideswipe ruined it again. 

"Not many trained medics are still around. And there hasn't been a regulatory board since before the war got going. The med-bay uses everyone they can get; if you have any training at all, Ratchet'll be happy to use you." 

Starscream finished the last weld line, closing the wound. He eyed the raised marks critically. Messy, but it would hold until self-repair smoothed it away. He released Bluestreak and reformed his normal hand. 

"Are you trying to recruit me?" he asked. 

Bluestreak rotated his arm, testing the repairs. He seemed pleased. Sunstreaker, who'd been looming over them the entire time, stepped away with a vaguely approving grunt. 

"Not recruit, 'xactly," Sideswipe said. "Just... put your name in as a backup assistant. Just in case, so Ratchet can call you if he needs help. Could save a life." 

The refusal in Starscream's vocalizer died in his throat. "I'll think about it," he muttered. 

He most definitely did not flee the rec-room after that. Merely... walked briskly. He'd never had much interest in medicine, past the bare essentials. Wasn't much good at it either, not compared to flying or researching or brawling. It felt strange to be picked out for healing instead. 

He wasn't sure if he'd take them up on the suggestion. Maybe. 

~.*.~


	20. SF: Sparring

**- <SF>-**

Eventually, Skyfire ran into the Stunticons. It'd been a while since he'd last seen them, long enough that he'd started to wonder if he was being avoided. So, when he saw them in the hallway up ahead, walking in a clump, Skyfire smiled and angled towards them. The younglings noticed him soon after. Wildrider nudged Dead End, snickering about something. Motormaster looked just as angry as all the other times Skyfire had seen him. The sight reminded him oddly of Starscream, back when they'd just met and the Seeker had still been getting used to him. 

"A pleasure to see you again," Skyfire said, nodding at them. He looked at Dead End. "How are the repairs doing? Have they been holding up alright?" 

The Youngling stared at him without speaking for a long, awkward moment. Then he said, "My frame hasn't been deteriorating any faster than normal. I'm no closer to the eternal embrace of death than I was." 

Skyfire stared back, speechless. 

"Repairs are holding up fine!" Wildrider cut in, apparently translating for his brother. "Not even any pain!" 

"That's, ah, good," Skyfire said, recovering his equilibrium. He turned his attention to the others. "And the rest of you?" he asked. "How are you doing?" 

They looked fine, at least. Their plating was healthy and unscratched, like they'd been taking care of themselves. Their fields were moderately healthy as well, though they were starting to twist at the edges. He'd need to regulate them again fairly soon. Motormaster was glaring at him though. Skyfire supposed he was getting used to it. 

"I still want a rematch," Motormaster spat out, arms crossed petulantly. 

Skyfire debated turning him down again—it didn't seem like Motormaster would push the issue this time; he was improving—but Skyfire had a better idea. "Would you like to spar?" he asked. 

Motormaster immediately perked up. "You mean you'll fight me?" 

Skyfire shook his head. "Not fight. Spar." 

Wildrider laughed. "Same difference, right? You wail on the other guy 'till there's a winner." 

Skyfire paused. He wondered when he'd stop being surprised by how badly their Caretaker was doing in teaching them about the world. "No," he said. "That's a fight—a brawl, specifically. Sparring means there's rules. And that you're trying to learn or practice instead of harming your opponent." 

Wildrider snorted. "I like my idea better," he grumbled. 

Skyfire winced but let the comment slide. One step at a time. "To the training rooms then," he said, gesturing them down a nearby hallway. He'd barely glimpsed the rooms, too intimidated by the soldiers surrounding him to visit alone, but he knew where they were. He'd certainly memorized enough maps during his wanderings to find his way around the main rooms of the base. 

The room was, thankfully, empty when he entered. It was poorly equipped, with only a few basic training weapons and padding. He idly wondered whether there were more, better equipped training rooms either, or if the base had, for whatever reason, decided to eschew normal training shifts altogether. Ignoring the weapons, Skyfire walked to the center of the padded floor. He gestured for Motormaster to join him. Hopefully he'd calm down after a good bout of sparring.  

"No intentional injuries," Skyfire started by saying. "Tap out if I accidentally injure you, and I'll do the same." 

Motormaster grumbled, visibly dismissing the caution. Skyfire made a note to pay attention to his wellbeing during the fight. He doubted the mech would actually say anything if he was hurt. Motormaster was already grinning manically and far too excited about a simple spar. _Younglings_.  

The first bout was short. Motormaster charged, Skyfire dodged, and a simple redirection sent the Grounder flying  

Don't be so hasty," Skyfire said. "Your first attack doesn't need to be your only strongest one. Don't be afraid to test your opponent, and be careful not to lose control." 

Motormaster didn't answer, but his next attempt was better. He still charged in, but he put some level of thought into his movements. Not much, and he still didn't plan ahead like a seasoned fighter, but better than before. Skyfire actually had to put some effort into reacting instead of avoiding the first charge and retaliating while Motormaster was still off-balance. 

"Good!" Skyfire said, smiling. "Much better." 

Motormaster missed a step, looking up at him with surprise. Skyfire wasn't sure why; he hadn't done anything particularly unusual. Motormaster recovered quickly, and he charged in for the next try. 

The remaining Stunticons filtered in sometime during the first few bouts. After the last one arrived, Skyfire turned to them. "Would you like to practice too?" he asked. 

He was met with vigorous acceptances from Wildrider and Drag Strip and a more reluctant agreement from the remaining two.  Skyfire quickly had them set up with each other and sparring, though they needed a few corrections to understand the difference between _sparring_ and _fighting._ He alternated between the mecha, offering advice and correcting forms. Every so often, one of them—especially Motormaster—would pull him into a sparring match of his own.  

Skyfire didn't mind.  

Eventually, quite a while into the evening, Motormaster managed to surprise him, and Skyfire found himself flat on the floor, staring up at the Youngling. Motormaster looked just as surprised as Skyfire felt. Then, the emotion gave way to a fierce pride. 

"Finally!" he crowed. "Fragging _finally,_ I got you!" 

Skyfire was laughing as he pushed himself back up. "Yes you did," he said. "That was a good throw; you did well." 

Again, Motormaster hesitated at the praise before recovering, resuming his victory celebration. Skyfire resolved to keep complimenting the Younglings—all of them—until they stopped seeming so confused by it. The other four were already watching them, having paused in their own bouts, so it was easy to get their attention. 

"I think that's a good thing to end on," Skyfire said."You all did very well." 

It was the truth. Motormaster had the best instinctual grasp of hand to hand combat, but all five had promise. Wildrider looked ready to protest, but the others were tired. 

"Can we do it again?" Drag Strip asked. 

Skyfire nodded. "Of course." 

There wasn't much mess to clean up 

"Where did you learn to fight like that anyway? Were you some kinda soldier before you got here?" 

The thought surprised a laugh out of him. "No, not at all," he said. "I was a scientist, actually. I specialized in xenobiology and interstellar exploration. That's how I arrived here, actually. My partner and I were exploring this corner of the galaxy, and I crashed." 

"But scientists are so boring!" Wildrider said. "How'd you learn how to fight if you were all holed up in labs and 'periments alla time?" 

Starscream. Always. The image of Star, face twisted from fury and so, so vibrant, flitted through his mind. He'd learned the basics of fighting after watching Starscream come home dented and leaking too many times. Gotten dragged into more brawls than he could count, some that Starscream started and more that he hadn't. He thought about ignoring Wildrider. Their trust was new, though, and fragile. He didn't want to break it already. 

"I had a partner," he said, "back before the War. A Seeker. He was brilliant and one of the most abrasive mecha I've ever met. He got into a lot of fights, especially with any who took exception to Flyers or Warbuilds being at the Academy." 

Starscream had always been skilled at insults. He'd had a gift with words and for twisting them into something impressively vulgar. He'd also known just how to goad someone into a fight. Most of the time, even Skyfire agreed they'd deserved it though. It had gotten them both into trouble many times. 

Smiling, Skyfire pulled out a photocube from his subspace, where he always kept it. It was one of his few remaining connections to his life before. A twist of his hand turned the cube on, and he flicked through the files until he found the right image. It was of him and Starscream at the Academy, not long after they'd earned their own private lab. They were standing in front of it, with Skyfire's arm pressed around Starscream. They were smiling, even Starscream, who he usually had to be surprised into an honest smile. 

The Younglings crowded him, jostling for a better view. 

"He's pretty," Breakdown mumbled. Skyfire laughed and agreed.  

"Where's he now?" Motormaster asked.  

Skyfire turned off the holocube and stored it back in his subspace, ignoring the disappointed sounds from the Younglings. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "The last time I saw him was before the crash. I haven't been able to find where he is now."  

Most files, especially old ones like that, had been either destroyed or restricted to mecha with rank. He'd tried to get access, begged even, and been denied. He smiled again at the Younglings, though it was strained at the edges. 

"He's probably joined the endless flow in the well of Allsparks, just like the rest of Cybertron," Dead End said. Wildrider nodded along. 

 Skyfire took a deep breath before answering. "No," he said. "He's alive. He was a better flier than me, and the most competent, stubborn Spark I've ever known. He'd survive the war on spite and stubbornness if nothing else. Now, I just need to find him." 

Dead End didn't seem convinced, but the other Younglings looked impressed.  

"Tell us about him?" Motormaster said. He probably meant it to be a demand, but it came out more like a request. Seems he was learning. 

"Of course," Skyfire said. There were some tattered, sad little chairs in the corner of the room, and Skyfire walked over to them. He had time and nothing else to fill it with. He'd enjoyed teaching the Younglings. And... he liked the idea of telling them about Starscream.  

"I met Starscream when I started at the Iacon Academy," Skyfire said. "I was investigating the public labs when I heard something explode and this Seeker came running out with a beaker that was absolutely spewing flames..." 

He had the Youngling's attention from the moment he started talking about fire and they listened with rapt attention as he kept talking. Something inside Skyfire's chest uncurled as he shared stories about Starscream. He missed him. Every time he turned around, he expected to see the Seeker, or hear his voice ranting about whatever idiot had insulted him that time, or have him running up with a new project idea in hand. 

_Soon_ , he thought. He'd find a way back or get access to the files. He'd search across all of Cybertron if that was what it took. For now, though, he told the Younglings stories, and he shared his memories. 

~.*.~


	21. SS: The First Battle

->SS<-

Starscream nearly fell off the chair when the alarms went off. He banged his wing against the wall and barely saving himself from hitting the floor before catching his balance again.  Starscream grit his teeth against the cacophony, slammed his fist against the keypad, and stalked into the hallway. 

The space was full of mecha rushing around, weapons drawn. Some were barking orders, others talking at each other, or just moving silently along. Starscream followed the flow of the crowd, letting it drag him towards the entrance of the ark. They spilled out onto the front lawn, where what seemed like half the Ark was gathering in ordered rows. Starscream caught sight of a familiar pair of doorwings. Bluesteak. He grabbed the Praxian’s arm. 

“The slag is going on?” he asked. 

Bluestreak blinked up at him. “Optimus called an assembly. The Decepticons were sighted near a human settlement.” 

“You’re gonna fight?” Starscream asked. He was surprised, though he wasn’t sure why. They were soldiers. He’d known that since waking up. Looking at Bluestreak and the Younglings, though, it was easy to forget. 

Bluestreak nodded. “You should get back in the Ark,” he said. “Stay with the rest of the mecha hanging back. You should look for Ratchet too, he’ll take care of you!” 

Grinning, he jogged away, meeting up with another group of Autobots. A few were already transforming in preparation. Starscream huffed and reluctantly turned back to the Ark. It wasn’t like he particularly wanted to get involved in their war, but he hated being left out. It felt too much like being pushed aside, useless. Better than being strong-armed into doing something, he guessed. He started walking, vague plans running through his head. He wasn't particularly interested in fighting, but maybe- 

He saw wings. Starscream stopped walking. 

The Younglings were here. All five of them were crowded in a circle, chattering amongst themselves. Slingshot had a blaster out. Starscream froze. Fury rose in his spark, and he snarled. 

Starscream stalked over. Fireflight noticed him first and waved, and the others turned. They smiled. Starscream didn't return it. 

“What are you doing?” he said. The words came out harsher than he’d intended. 

The younglings froze at his tone, optics wide. “What’s it look like we’re doing?” Slingshot said, crossing his arms and glaring at Starscream. “Getting ready for the fight!” 

For a moment, Starscream was speechless with rage. They really were sending the Younglings into a battle. 

Slag _that_. 

“It’s dangerous!” he hissed. 

This time, Silverbolt answered him. “We’re a Gestalt and the best combat Flightframes the Autobots have. We can help.” 

He said it with all the blind determination of youth. Instead of trying to argue with that kind of stupidity, Starscream turned around and stalked away. He’d find their Caretaker instead. 

Scanning the crowd, Starscream quickly found Ratchet's familiar crest. The Medic seemed to be lecturing some of the grunts with Prowl looming by his side. He earned a sideways glance as he stalked over, though no other reaction until he grabbed Ratchet's arm and yanked him away. He ignored Ratchet's surprised grunt and the incredulous glare that followed. The other ‘bots wisely took the opportunity to vacate the scene. 

"The slag are you doing?" Ratchet shouted, yanking his arm back. 

"The slag am I-" Starscream pointed at the gaggle of younglings and the weapons they were still holding. "You're using Younglings as soldiers now? They could get killed! The slag are you thinking?" 

The anger drained from Ratchet's face. Something that might have been guilt replaced it, or maybe it was just weariness. "They wouldn't stay back even if we ordered them. Stubborn little buggers." 

Starscream snorted. "So? They're younglings. Make them listen." 

Ratchet's frame tensed. In guilt or anger, Starscream couldn't tell. "Don't try to lecture me about things you don't understand," he said. 

Starscream laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "What, are you talking about how I'm not some fancy soldier? Or how I spent decavorns slagging frozen while the world fell apart and everyone I knew deactivated? Trust me, I don't need to have lived through a war to know that bringing younglings into it is a slagged up thing to do." 

"You think I don't know that? That it doesn't rip my spark apart every time we send them out there?" Ratchet countered. There was true pain in his voice, enough to make even Starscream pause. "They're younglings, but they're also fully framed and determined to help. And we need a Gestalt." 

"They could die!" 

"They'll die anyway if Megatron wins! At least this way they have a chance." 

Starscream bit back a scream of frustration. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. It didn't do anything to fix the riot of emotions in his spark, but he could pretend it did. 

"I can't convince you," he managed in a reasonable controlled tone. 

Ratchet huffed. "Mech, I'm not even the person you'd have to convince." 

Starscream took another breath. Then another. 

"Fine," he said. "Fine. Then I'm at least going with them." 

If he couldn't make them stay behind, then he'd fly with them and make sure they didn't get hurt. 

Ratchet hesitated, caught off guard. "You'll what?" 

Behind him, Prowl, who'd been quietly listening to their argument, clearing his throat and stepped forward. "I'm afraid that won't be possible," he said. "You're still untrained. I cannot trust you in our ranks unless-" 

Starscream cut in. "I spent a vorn at Vos's War Academy. I know how to fly," he said. And slag, what a disaster that vorn had been. He'd been good at it, of course—even there, nobody could outfly him—but he'd hated it. The orders. The repetition. The slagging whispers about being Trineless. It'd been a relief when he'd gotten his acceptance to Iacon, and he'd never looked back. 

Prowl only paused for a moment. "I appreciate your dedication, but you still haven't been exposed to our tactics and command structure. At this point, it would be dangerous for everyone, the Younglings included, to send you into battle." His tone softened, as much as it ever did for the stoic Praxian. "I'm sorry, but-" 

He was interrupted by Prime's voice, calling them to action. Around them, mecha started to transform. 

"Meet with me after the battle, and we'll talk about training and getting you onto the roster. For now, stay here." With that, he transformed and joined the line of Autobots. He heard the Youngling's engines roar to life as they took to the sky, and the air filled with dust as the Grounders sped up. Soon, they were gone as Starscream glared impotently after them. 

"Like slag I'm gonna listen to some self-important-" A hand grabbed his wing, right below the sensitive tips and started pulling him towards the ship. Starscream yelped and stumbled back. 

"Ratchet, what the frag? Let go!" 

"Oh, so you weren't about to ignore Prowl and fly off on some half-baked scheme to protect Younglings with more combat experience than you?" 

He didn't wait for an answer. Starscream finally managed to pry his wing free, wincing at the dull pain, and Ratchet's arm immediately fell down to his shoulder. His grip was surprisingly strong for a medic. 

"I'm gonna go prep my med-bay, and you're gonna stay in the ship where Teletraan 1 can keep a sensor on you so you don't do anything stupid." 

"I don't need a babysitter!" 

Ratchet snorted. "Oh, good, less work for me." 

Starscream wanted to snark something back, but he glanced behind him. The Autobots were nearly out of sight already. He could still catch up if he wanted to. It would be easy. 

Ratchet sighed and patted him on the shoulder in a move that felt more gruffly awkward than condescending, which was the only reason Starscream allowed it. "I get that you want to protect them. Trust me, everyone here will be happy to have an experienced Flyer up there with them. Just don't mess with a battle that's already started. It won't end well for anyone." 

Starscream watched until long after the others disappeared from sight before he followed Ratchet inside. 

~.*.~


	22. SF: The First Battle

 -<SF>- 

Skyfire distantly noticed when the base emptied out, but he didn't pay it much mind until everyone came back and the base descended into chaos. The noise hit him first: dozens of soldiers, all coming down from battle-high and eager for another brawl. He watched the procession with a mix of curiosity and unease. 

The first mecha were carrying energon cubes and loudly celebrating. Skyfire watched them pass. Apparently there'd been a battle. Seemed it'd gone well. 

Silently checking his med-kit, Skyfire turned away from the celebrations and started walking down a different hallway. Where there was a battle, there were injuries. He bet his help would be appreciated. The hallways were largely empty, with the returning mech congregating in the rec-room, so he made good speed towards the med-bay. He hadn't been there since waking up, but he still remembered the path. Skyfire expected he remembered most everything about that day. 

He was halfway there when two tiny mecha came barreling towards him. Twin heads tilted up to stare at him, and Rumble broke into a grin at the sight. 

"Skyfire, there you are! Man, you really missed out! Today was great," he said. 

Skyfire questioned anyone who would call a battle 'great' but kept his mouth shut. "Might I assume you two are uninjured?" he asked. 

Frenzy nodded. "Not a scratch," he said, baring his teeth in a sharp imitation of a smile. Skyfire winced. 

"Were ya off to anyway?" Rumble asked. 

"The med-bay. I figured my services might be useful." 

The Twins shared a glance. Then Rumble broke into laughter. Skyfire stared down at him, lost, until he composed himself enough to speak. 

"Yeah, the visiting the med-bay thing?" Frenzy said. 

"Might not be a good idea. Not for a while," Rumble continued 

"Or ever." 

Skyfire took a deep breath. Patience, he thought. Despite his confusion, it was fairly easy to hold onto. Certainly easier than during half the stunts Starscream had pulled. 

"I don't understand," he said. "There has to be injured mecha waiting to be treated, and I've heard about the shortage of medics. My training might be limited, but-." 

"Mech, if you go in there right now, Hook might take a break from fixing injuries just to kick you back out. Probably with some cheerful evisceration thrown in, Hook likes that. See, the mech isn't much fond of competition or mecha encroaching on his territory. If I were you, I'd steer clear." 

Skyfire paused. He wanted to dismiss the Twin's warnings as ridiculous—what kind of mech could possibly get worked out over basic medical care, of all things?—but the Twins hadn't lied to him before. Still... 

"I won't sit here and do nothing while mecha need treatment," he said.  

Frenzy snorted. "Who said anything about that? All we said was not to go barging into Hook's med-bay and expecting a warm welcome. Doesn't mean you can't set up shop elsewhere." 

A smile spread across Skyfire's face. "Thank you for the advice," he said, and he continued down the hall. He might have to revise his plans slightly, but it wasn't much trouble. 

… 

Skyfire had been right about the injuries. The med-bay was full of them, along with the available medics and ramshackle assistants. More mecha, those with less critical injuries, spilled into the hall, where they were lounging on the floor and spare storage units. Some seemed to be gambling while they waited. Skyfire's time treating mecha for minor damage paid off; as soon as he was noticed, mecha started trickling over. 

He would have preferred a real med-bay, with supplies and sterile equipment, but he made do with an empty room and his med-kit. He'd need to restock it sometime soon. He was starting to run low on pain patches and materials. It wasn't a problem yet though, and most of the mecha who came to him didn't need very intensive repairs.

A shadow fell over him, and Skyfire looked up. He smiled. "Motormaster," he said, nodding in greeting. "It's a pleasure to see you again. Are you alright?" 

He didn't look injured, and neither did Wildrider, who was standing behind him. 

"Fine," Motormaster grunted. "Heard you were doing some repairs here." Then he sank down on the floor near the wall and proceeded to glare at Skyfire and his patient. 

"Did you need anything?" Skyfire asked. 

"No." 

Bemused, Skyfire turned back to his patient. The Younglings could do what they wanted, even if that was apparently watching Skyfire work. With another few strokes of the microwelder, he had the Grounder's lines sealed up. Reassembling the armor only took another few moments, and he sent the mech on his way. The next mech was a Seeker with a twisted wing, and Skyfire soon forgot about his silent watchers. 

… 

Almost a cycle passed before Skyfire was interrupted again. 

"Well, isn't this just the cutest thing," a voice drawled from the entryway. 

Skyfire glanced up. Before he could get more than a glimpse of gray and outstretched rotaries, Motormaster blocked his view, placing himself between the newcomer and Skyfire. Wildrider and Breakdown were behind him; Skyfire hadn't even noticed Breakdown come inside. 

"Aw, you even have the Newbies hanging around!" 

"Vortex," Motormaster growled. "Leave." 

Vortex snorted. Skyfire turned off the microwelder he'd been using, uncertain what to do. His patient, a small Grounder, took the opportunity to snatch his arm back and scurry out of the room. The other mecha didn't seem to notice. 

Vortex took a step closer. Motormaster did too, blocking him. 

"C'mon, don't I get to play with the Civvie too? What if I have an injury, huh? I wanna see the Shuttle that keeps playing at being a medic!" 

Skyfire stood. Despite the three blocky frames blocking his way, he could easily see over their heads. Vortex was still lounging in the doorway, a smirk curled across his lips. He looked no different than the last time Skyfire had seen him. He didn't look injured, but Skyfire didn't want to take that chance. 

"If he requires medical attention, then I--" 

Wildrider hushed him. Vortex started to cackle. "See? Even the Civvie wants to say hi! You gonna ignore him too?" 

"I said leave," Motormaster said, putting a bit of threat into his voice. 

Vortex's voice lowered from its high pitch, playful cackle. "You saying you're gonna stop me?" he asked, voice as smooth as silk.

They were getting ready to fight. They were really- 

"Now, wait a minute!" Skyfire said, looking between them. He stepped forward and tried to push the Younglings aside. They didn't budge, not unless Skyfire was willing to put some real force behind the motion. 

Vortex's visor flickered, and he groaned. He raised a hand to his temple; he was getting a com call. 

"Whadda ya want?" he asked. "I'm busy!" 

The Younglings kept glaring at him, and they didn't budge for the Shuttle. Wildrider even gave him a little shove back when Skyfire got too close, like he was the misbehaving Youngling. Skyfire wasn't willing to force them aside, but he as certainly tempted. He didn't like the look of Vortex, or the way he smiled. It made him uneasy. 

Vortex groaned loudly, almost theatrically. "Ons, you're ruining all my fun!" 

With an almighty sigh, Vortex pushed away from the wall, pouting. He turned towards the door, though not before waving casually at the Younglings. 

"Bye, Newbies! I'll see you later!" he said. 

He was humming as he left, steps scrapping against the tile in a skipping little pattern. Skyfire didn't relax until after he disappeared through the doorway, off to find Ons—Onslaught, had to be. The mech's Commanding Officer. 

Motormaster and the others didn't relax until long after his footsteps faded. The wall they'd formed in front of Skyfire loosened then fragmented, and the Younglings turned back towards Skyfire. For his part, Skyfire stepped back, sinking against one of the empty storage units. His legs felt unsteady as the tension released.

"Please don't do that again," Skyfire said. "I don't want you putting yourself in danger. I can take care of myself." 

He wasn't sure quite how true that was, not when Vortex had warranted a specific warning from Thundercracker. Skyfire suppose he understood that now. Still, he'd handled uneven fights before. He wouldn't let a Youngling put himself in danger over something like that. 

"You're ours," Motormaster said, as if that explained everything. "He's not allowed to hurt you." 

Seemed he'd been adopted without realizing it. Skyfire was touched. It had been a long time since anyone besides Starscream had showed that kind of concern. "I'm grateful," he said. "Really, I am, but I don't want to see you damaged. As the elder, it's my job to ensure you guys stay safe." 

"Yeah? Well, we're a Gestalt And we gots Megatron's favor. It's our job to protect you." 

Skyfire nearly started laughing. Arguing with Younglings about who would protect who from mecha who were supposedly on their side. He was honestly rather disappointed in the world he'd woken up to. 

The mecha who'd been waiting for treatment had all cleared out during the confrontation. Skyfire doubted they'd returned; he was only mildly disappointed by the thought. The only injuries left had been quite mild, and he was tired. 

"Come," he said, rubbing at a building headache. "Let's get some energon. You must be hungry after the fighting." 

The Stunticons seemed to forget all about the confrontation as they left the room. Skyfire didn't. 

~.*.~


	23. SS: Training and Flying

->SS<-   

Once Starscream started paying attention to the military side of the base, he learned one thing very quickly: the Autobots had absolutely no idea what to do with flightframes. Sure, Prowl threw basic tactic and various datapads at him--stuff everyone on the battlefield needed to know--but Starscream couldn't drill with the Grounders. The Younglings were the only other Flyers, and they were, well… 

Young. Entirely untrained. And far, far too impulsive. 

Starscream groaned as he watched the Gestalt practice. He had them running through basic exercises from his first orns at the War Academy as he watched from the ground. He'd intended to join them in the air at first, but… He still hadn't flown since Skyfire. Right now, the Younglings needed instruction more than anything, and they had a lot to learn before they even came close to Starscream's skill. Besides, it was easier to critique them from the ground. 

“Streetwise get back in formation! You’re not done yet!” Starscream shouted into the ‘Com channel. “C’mon, I thought you five were supposed to be soldiers!”   

Streetwise slid back to Silverbolt’s wings with a minimal amount of grumbling, though his next several turns were decidedly sullen.   

The kids were skilled for their age. Starscream would give them that much, at least, though they were making mistakes Starscream hadn’t seen since he was half their height. Flying too close together, or too far, or not even knowing where their wingmates were…   

At least they were getting better. Slowly. 

Several repetitions later, Starscream freed them from the drills. With a whoop of joy, Air Raid sped off into the distance, corkscrewing in newfound freedom and challenging his brothers to a race. Fireflight and Slingshot took him up on it, and soon the three of them were looping across the sky in gleeful patterns. Starscream was pleased to note that, when they bothered to fly together, they automatically fell into basic Trine formations. Good.   

Seemed his lessons hadn’t been a complete waste of time.   

Silverbolt and Skydive stayed closer to the Ark, drifting leisurely through the air as the others played. Eventually, Skydive drifted closer. He transformed above Starscream’s helm, hovering in place.   

“Join us?” he asked with a brilliant smile. “I’d like to fly with you.”   

Starscream froze. Denial sat heavily on the tip of his tongue. It did not pass his lips.   

For everything this planet had stolen from him, its sky was beautiful. He hadn’t flown in orns, and Starscream recognized the stirrings of sky-hunger echoing through his frame. He missed flying. He missed the challenge and the joy and the feel of air currents against his wings.   

Starscream hated the thought of flying without his partner. Yearned to return to the air so much it was a physical ache in his chest.   

With a soft sound Silverbolt transformed to hover beside his brother. Concern lit his optics when he glanced at Starscream, and he tugged at Skydive’s arm.   

“C’mon. Let’s keep going. Starscream can join us some other time,” he said.   

Skydive’s face fell. “But I-”   

“No. Don’t pester him, alright?” And with that, Silverbolt grabbed Skydive’s thrusters and turned away, angled as if to pull Skydive with him.   

Starscream’s mouth opened without his permission. “Wait,” he said. Then stopped as his words seemed to dry up.   

Two pairs of optics turned towards him: one hopeful, the other concerned.   

(pitying, a small voice in Starscream’s processer whispered. He pities you, the poor mech who lost his partner)   

Starscream made a decision.   

“I’ll come,” he said, clenching his claws into tighter fists until they finally stopped trembling. He stepped forward and sent the order to activate his thrusters. They onlined with slight creak of underused parts. He transformed before anyone could see the pain in his optics.   

He refused to be weak.   

~.*.~


	24. SF: Conniving Cassetticons

-<SF>-   

The labs in the Nemesis were almost distressingly small and ill-stocked, more of an afterthought than an integral part of the ship, but they had some truly marvelous toys for Skyfire to play with. One of the perks of being on an organic planet; organic material to study and experiment on was truly everywhere.  

Official, Skyfire's role in the labs meant he was supposed to spend most of his shifts disinfecting and cleaning the room, but nobody actually cared or bothered to give him assignments. They also, apparently, largely found the organic mater unpleasant, which meant Skyfire could play with the samples to his spark’s content. He had a sizeable collection of the local fauna brightening up his quarters now.  

His shift didn’t have an official start or end time,  so Skyfire simply cleaned his station and left when he finished his test. As he walked back to his quarters, he was interrupted by two screeching minicons darting around the corner. Skyfire stumbled to avoid accidentally stepping on the small mecha.    

“Is everything alright?” Skyfire tried to ask.   

The Twins didn’t even notice. They’d stopped running, at least, and they stared at each other as if having a silent conversation. Skyfire waited patiently for them to finish. They didn’t look hurt or even afraid, despite the way they’d been sprinting earlier. If anything, Skyfire would say they seemed oddly gleeful. They finished their silent discussion, and their optics snapped towards Skyfire’s in unison.   

“Don’t move--” Rumble said.   

“And don’t give us away!” Frenzy finished.   

Skyfire blinked, confused. Before he could ask for clarification, the two Cassetticons scurried behind his legs. Small hands latched onto his calves, and they started to climb. Bemused, Skyfire craned his neck backwards to watch the two’s progression up his back, where their small frames were easily hidden by his wings.   

“We’re not here!” Rumble hissed. “Stop staring!”    

Skyfire obligingly looked away. Soon enough, clanging sounds echoed from the hallway where the Twins had emerged from, and a Seeker came  into view. He looked… interesting.  His plating was soaked in a sticky, vibrantly orange gunk that sparkled in the light. Skyfire had a good idea who was responsible.   

“Did those tiny menaces come by here?” the Seeker growled at Skyfire.   

Skyfire shook his head. “You’re the only mech I’ve seen recently.”   

The mech cursed and kept moving. He was muttering a creative litany of threats and insults under his breath. Some of them were quite inspired and anatomically impossible. Skyfire was impressed.   

Rumble and Frenzy remained on Skyfire’s back long after the Seeker disappeared from sight. Skyfire shifted, rustling his wings pointedly, and they slipped back to the ground.    

“Thanks, dude,” Frenzy said, grinning up at him. “You’re not half bad.”   

Skyfire laughed and shook his head. “Did the Seeker deserve it?” he asked.   

Rumble nodded his head vigorously. “Slag yeah!” he said. “He was insulting the Bossbot! Nobody gets away with that.” Both Cassetes nodded, unexpectedly serious. It seemed the two minicons were protective of their Host. The thought made him smile.   

“Next time, try mixing some basic color nanites in with the dye,” Skyfire offered. “It’ll make the color last longer.”   

The Cassetticons stared at him. Then wide grins spread across both their faces. “Slag, Skyfire.  I never woulda pegged you for a prankster!” Frenzy said.   

Skyfire shrugged, smiling despite the embarrassment creeping up his neck.  “My… partner could be very creative with his revenge,” he said. “I was roped into helping more often than not.”   

Starscream had been an expert at toeing the line between humiliation and a felony. Skyfire had learned to throttle back his worst ideas, and had enjoyed the outcomes more than he cared to admit. He also hadn’t missed how the worst pranks went to the mecha who’d insulted Skyfire. Not that Starscream had ever admitted it.    

"You should probably keep moving," Skyfire said. "I'm sure that Seeker will come back eventually, and I'm guessing you'll want to be gone by then." 

Rumble and Frenzy must have agreed with him, because they burst into motion, scurrying further down the hallway. They blended into the shadows almost frighteningly easy. Just before they vanished, Rumble turned back around. 

"See you around, Skyfire! Thanks for the advice!" 

Then they were gone, and Skyfire was along again in the hallway. After a moment, he kept walking. He kept smiling the whole way back to his quarters. 

~.*.~


	25. SS: Complications

->SS<-    

Somehow, against Starscream’s every expectation, he found himself with mecha whose company he actually found tolerable. A rather large number of them too. Back in Iacon, he could have counted on one hand the number of mecha he willingly spent time with. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the change.    

Unless he was in his quarters, there always seemed to be mecha around. Even the labs, which had been his usual retreat, were usually occupied. Occasionally he missed the solitude, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Working with Wheeljack in the labs was different than with Sky- than _before_ , but it was tolerable. He had to deal with worse materials and stricter demands, but at least they were still interesting. And Wheeljack wasn't too bad of a mech to work alongside. 

The Twins regularly sought out his company in the rec-room, and they often had the Praxian chatterbox with them. They only asked for advice about pranks or energon stills half the time; the other half was random news or babbling that should have irritated the Seeker. For whatever reason, he didn't mind it. Not too much, at least.

He took a drink from his energon cube, watching Bluestreak lecture Sideswipe about proper weapon maintenance. They were interesting enough company, he supposed. The Twins especially had a delightfully crass vocabulary, and, in the right mood, Bluestreak had a wicked tongue on him. They were certainly never boring. 

Starscream was considering adding his own opinion to the debate when a conversation at a table behind them caught his audios.    

“—really managed to tame him, haven’t they,” someone was saying. His voice carried well in the half-empty room. ”I mean, I don’t know who bothered to pick ‘em up and train ‘em before the war, but it really worked. Wheeljack’s been raving ‘bout how helpful he is, not that the mech has high standards.”    

A chorus of obnoxious laughs met him. Suspicion had Starscream’s hand tightening painfully against his cube. Armor tight against his frame and wings hiked high in warning, he forced himself to wait. Not yet, he told himself. Wait ‘till nobody can pin the blame on you. Patience, Starscream. You can do it.    

“It’s almost like he’s not a real Seeker at all.” Someone else said, like it was some sort of slagging complement. Starscream snapped.    

“All right. That’s it,” Starscream said, voice sounding far calmer than he felt. His three companions stared at him in confusion as Starscream pushed himself upright and spun around, fists clenched. Picking out who had been talking was easy. The red minibot a few tables away, surrounded by a table of simpering sycophants. A white minibot noticed him stand, and his optics widened in surprise and guilt.    

Red kept talking as Starscream stalked over. The table fell silent around him, not that he noticed. He didn’t even see Starscream’s fist coming before he knocked the slagger clean out of his chair and across the floor.    

When the minibot mob retaliated and the brawl started in earnest, Starscream grinned viciously and fought back.    

~.*.~


	26. SF: Organics and Energon

-<SF>- 

Walking into the rec-room still earned him a few looks--especially if one of the Younglings joined him--but, for the most part, mecha left him alone again. Skyfire was grateful. Much as he enjoyed others' company, the attention had been stressful.  

He recognized Skywarp and the Twins squirreled away in the corner of the rec room, undoubtedly colluding about something. Skyfire had quickly learned that the three of them together tended to be an explosive combination, sometimes literally. Most mecha were, wisely, giving the three a wide berth. Skyfire took advantage of the empty space near them, hoping to ignore any awkward conversation.  

Of course, that backfired when the Twins noticed him and started trying to motion him over. Eventually, conscious of the racket they were making, Skyfire obliged and joined them with his energon.  

"Skyfire! Hey, Skyfire! There you are," Rumble said, grinning up at him. "Hey, how'd ya feel 'bout Thrust? And boobytraps?"  

Skyfire nearly dropped his energon. Skywarp twisted around to follow Rumble's gaze, face drawn in confusion.  

"What're you asking him for?" he asked.  

"Dude, the Shuttle's chill. He gave me some suggestions for revenge earlier!" Rumble said. "'Sides, he's got science on his side! I bet he can do the best shit!"  

Skywarp turned back to Skyfire, an almost frightening sparkle taking root in his optics. Skyfire recognized that look. He was scheming. Skyfire was quick to interrupt it.

"Whatever you're planning, I'm not interested!" Skyfire said. "I'd rather not make any enemies right now."  

The Cassetticons groaned and made some noise about convincing him, not that Skyfire had any intention of relenting. Eventually—and with much grumbling—they gave up. Skywarp seemed disappointed.  As the conversation turned to different, less incriminatory subjects, Skyfire relaxed. With the Seeker so close, though, he found himself staring.  

"I've been meaning to ask," Skyfire said. "Who designed these new Alt-modes? I've certainly never seen anything like it back on Cybertron."  

The forms weren't bad, exactly, but they were certainly more blocky than he was used to and contained odd, hollow spaces. Plus, the grounders had wheels, of all things. Wheels had been little more than a novelty since long before the Golden Age, but now everyone seemed to have a set, even the Aerials. Compared to everything else that had changed, the odd alt-modes were merely cosmetic, but Skyfire couldn't deny he was curious.  

Skywarp grimaced and flicked his wings, seemingly displeased at the reminder. "Yeah, alla us on Earth got these when we woke up, and we're not allowed to change them back. Something 'bout blending in with the natives, which is a load a slag."  

"Natives?"  

Skywarp nodded. "Yeah, the Organics here. They built all this unsparked transport, which is really weird to fly near, lemme tell ya."  

 "You mean the organics are sentient?"  

He blurted out the question, almost tripping over the words. His enthusiasm earned him three confused stares.  

"They're not sparked, if that's what you mean," Rumble said slowly.  

Skyfire waved him away. "No, no , that's not-" Skyfire stopped and took a deep breath. Now was not the time for a lecture about biological terminology or philosophy. "Do they have their own language? Tools and technology? Just how advanced is their society?"  

Skywarp blinked, then he laughed. "Dude, chill. They're just organics. 'S not like I've been paying much attention. What do you care anyway?"   

Skyfire barely restrained a groan. The most interesting discovery since waking up—before that, even—and he had no way of finding out more. He doubted Skywarp, or anyone else who wasn't a trained researcher, would pay attention to the kind of details he wanted to know.  

"I'm a scientist, remember? Xenobiology was one of my specialties. Organics—especially intelligent ones—are quite rare. Being able to study them in person would be..." He gestured with his hands, trying to convey just how incredible the opportunity would have been. "Aren't you the least bit interested about such a different type of lifeform? How sparkless intelligence and society might develop?"  

From the looks on their faces, the answer was no. Skyfire sighed.  

"I'd very much like to get out there more," he mused, mostly to himself. "If I could only see them in person then maybe..."  

He shook his head, as if trying to throw the thought back out of it. There was a war going on, after all, even if he wasn't directly fighting it. Intellectual curiosity was very far down the list of priorities.  

Skywarp chuckled. "Hey, maybe if you help me an' the shorties out with Thrust I'll bring you back a shinny next time I'm out! Whadda you think?" 

He earned a punch from Frenzy for the short comment, not that the Seeker seemed to mind. Skyfire shook his head. 

"Not this time," he said, "but thanks for the offer." 

Skywarp shrugged. "Eh, your loss!" 

He didn't bring it up again, which Skyfire was thankful for. Skyfire finished his energon eventually, but he didn't take the excuse to leave. Once he relaxed, the conversation was enjoyable. Skyfire lingered in the rec room longer than he'd intended, but he didn't regret it.

~.*.~


	27. SS: Consequences

-<SS>- 

Starscream was actually surprised when Sideswipe was plunked down in the brig next to him, restrained and proudly wearing the marks of the brawl. “So,” he said, grinning despite the energon dribbling down from a tear in his lip. “What’d the little slaggers do this time?” 

Sunstreaker was pushed into the cell after him, though the yellow Twin strutted to the chair at the back of the cell instead of joining his Twin on the floor. He proceeded to thoroughly ignore them. 

Starscream eyed Sideswipe oddly. “What, no lecture about controlling my temper or randomly assaulting our supposed allies?” he sneered. Usually that was the first thing mecha did after he sucked them into a fight. Even Skyfire had needed to be trained out of it. 

Sideswipe burst into laughter. “Mech, if I said that, I’d be the worst kind of hypocrite. You would not believe the number of times Sunny and I have put those trashtalking idiots in their place. They really don’t know when to shut up!” 

That managed to surprise a laugh out of Starscream. His foul mood lightened to something, if not good, then at least bearable. Then Sideswipe ruined it. 

“So what’d the minibots say to get a reaction like that?” he continued. 

Starscream tensed right back up. “None of you slagging business,” he shot back. Sideswipe just shrugged, unperturbed, though his Twin shot him a nasty glare at Starscream’s tone. Not that he cared. 

“Prowl should be here soon,” Sideswipe said instead, smoothly changing the topic. “He likes to handle punishments himself, especially when it comes to us.” He grinned unrepentantly and leaned close, as if sharing a secret. “We got a reputation, you see. Prowl calls us his number one headache.” 

The door to the brig hissed open, and Sideswipe turned. “Speak of the devil,” he murmured. “I knew-” 

It wasn’t Prowl. Optimus Slagging Prime walked through that doorway. 

… 

Star could barely hear the Prime approaching over the panic roaring in his audios. Apparently he’d screwed up badly enough they’d gotten the Prime involved. That had never happened before (and he’d pissed plenty of people off over the vorns). He was smiling too. Either Starscream was missing something, or the Prime was some kind of sadistic fragger. Starscream would bet money on the latter. 

“A certain minibot has been sending me some rather explicit complaints about you for the past cycle,” Prime said as he stopped in front of Starscream’s cell. “Apparently, there was an altercation earlier today that he was quite upset about. He had quite a few things to say about allowing Warframes free reign across the ship as well.” 

Starscream grit his teeth against the vitriol that was aching to spill out. He would not yell at the Prime. No matter how slagging stupid he was being. He might have zero respect for Authority, but… Even he drew the line at insulting the Prime. He had some survival instinct, after all. So, jaw clenched and face locked into a grimace, Starscream waited to hear the Prime’s version of ’justice.’ 

“I’ve had words with Cliffjumper about holding onto old prejudices,” Prime said instead. “And I wished to apologize personally for not correcting this problem earlier.” 

Starscream gaped at him, anger overridden by surprise. In its absence, he struggled to respond. 

“I—Alright?” he stuttered. Then, recovering his bluster, he continued. “Well, good. ‘Bout time you did something ‘bout those little menaces!” 

Prime gave him a small, almost disappointed frown at the insult, not that Starscream cared. “Prowl will be by shortly to hear your side of the altercation. I trust him to be fair to all involved parties.” 

Starscream nodded, still confused but unwilling to show it. He watched as the Prime greeted Sideswipe in turn with a mild, almost fond rebuke and left. Silence reigned for a breem. Then-- 

“Don’t worry,” Sideswipe said, thumping him on the back in a gesture that was likely intended to be friendly. “Everyone knows the minibots talk slag. It gets them into fights every orn. Plus, it’s your first time getting into trouble. Prowl’s gonna let you off easy.” 

Starscream, still staring at the closed door where Prime had exited, nodded absentmindedly, barely listening. 

“Yeah,” he echoed. “Easy.” 


	28. SF: Voluntold

-<SF>-     

“Oy, Shuttle!”    

Skyfire jumped as something—a small bolt? What?—hit his helm. Then he turned to stare at the mech who’d thrown it. It was a black and red Seeker Skyfire vaguely recognized as a lower ranked Officer. Thrust, perhaps?  

Skyfire gave him a short bow in respect to his rank. “Yes?” he asked.    

“We’ve got a raid coming up, and we need some transport. You ready to earn your keep?”    

Skyfire tried to say something. Static fizzed out of his throat. Thrust’s grin widened, taking on a malicious tint. “Great! See you in the tower in a cycle!”    

And he was gone.    

Skyfire stared after him. The protest dried up in his throat, dying without anyone to hear it. Instead, half to himself, he asked, “What just happened?”    

A small hand patted his knee. Skyfire jumped; he still hadn’t gotten the hang of watching out for Cassetticons. Rumble stared up at him. “You got volunteered. Sucks,” he said.    

“I’ve never seen a battle before,” he said. “I don’t even own a weapon! What am I supposed to do?”    

Rumble shrugged. “Grab a blaster from the armory. They always have extra,” he said. Then, with a grin, he hooked his foot against Skyfire’s leg and started climbing. “Don’t worry,” he said as he reached his favorite perch atop Skyfire’s shoulder. “The Autobot’s air support is complete slag. I bet they just want you for transport, not actual fighting. Stay near the back when the shooting starts and you’ll be fine.”    

He nudged Skyfire onward, and Skyfire went, following his directions blindly. It was all happening too fast, and he didn’t know what to do. With panic pulsing an unsteady staccato in his chest and Rumble’s advice in his audios, Skyfire prepared.    

…    


	29. SS: Battle

->SS<-  

Sideswipe was right. Starscream got off with a slap on the wrist. 

Sure, he got some punishment duty and an admittedly impressive lecture, but that was barely anything. No threats of demotion or attempts at intimidation. Not even extra brig time. Pit, he'd gotten worse at the _Academy_ for misusing lab equipment. 

The Twins had it slightly worse for “repeated offenses,” not that they seemed to mind. Apparently they were used to it. Sideswipe took an odd sort of pride in the length of his file. 

He’d been walking back to his quarters, completely done with the day, when the base alarm sounded: another attack. He found the Aerialbots almost immediately. This time, nobody stopped him. 

… 

Nobody else was in the air when they arrived, though Starscream saw a few wings on the ground. It looked like they were being used mainly as transport for the energy. How... mundane. The Grounders weren't much better. For factions of heavily experienced soldiers, both sides were quite disorganized. They started with some semblance of order, though that had quickly dissolved as the Autobots reached the distillery and the fighting picked up.    

Starscream ignored them. He didn’t give a slag about what happened inside the refinery. Alright, maybe a little bit. But those mecha were trained soldiers. They could handle themselves. 

A gaggle of Grounders broke away from the other fighters. A moment later, there was one enormous mecha standing there instead. 

A Combiner. 

Starscream nearly fell out of the sky. 

He righted himself almost immediately, of course, but he kept staring. He knew what a Combiner was, of course, but he'd never actually seen one transformed. Even the Aerialbots hadn't combined casually and never in front of him. It was... certainly impressive.  

Whooping, Skydive led his brothers in charging towards the ground and the Gestalt. They transformed just in time for the five of them to land on two feet. Then there were two Gestalts, and they started to fight. Everyone else quickly got out of their way. 

Starscream hovered over them for a few kliks. A stray attack passed uncomfortably close to him, and he darted backwards. He kept an optic on them, just in case something happened or they broke apart again. They seemed to be holding their own well enough. 

Soon enough, Starscream left. He couldn't do anything in the air, not unless he wanted to try luring some of the Decepticon Seekers into joining him, and even he was hesitant about taking on multiple Trines at once.  He circled the Autobots a few times, getting a sense of the battlefield, before landing on one of the natural outcroppings overlooking it. He might as well find a comfortable vantage point, if they were going to stick around for a while.   


	30. SF: Battle

-<SF>-    

Skyfire was panicking.    

There were… blasters and swords and screaming, and he didn’t know what to do!    

He knew the basics of fighting. He knew how to throw a punch and could hold his own in a brawl. This was not a brawl. It wasn’t a handful of overcharged mecha in an alleyway or hecklers on the street. They were soldiers—trained, experienced soldiers—and Skyfire knew he was outclassed.  

He just kinda… stood there uselessly. The Autobots had arrived before they’d managed to fill more than a dozen cubes, and then everything degenerated into complete chaos. Skyfire slipped to the back and out of sight, and he just…. kept backing up. Until he was well out of the firing range, and then he just kept going.    

Nobody seemed to notice.    

He didn’t stop.    

He lost sight of the other Flyers. Some of them seemed to be fighting or carrying energon away which, of course, led to the Autobots targeting them and more fighting that Skyire wanted no part of. Nobody ordered him to join in, thank Primus, so he stayed firmly on the ground and as far out of sight as possible. Maybe it was an oversight. Maybe it was what kindness Thundercracker could spare. Either way, Skyfire wasn’t about to jeopardize his luck. 

In front of him, the Stunticons had combined and were being attacked by another, unfamiliar gestalt.  They seemed happy, though, happier than any of the other fighters. They were more brute strength than skill, and their opossing Gestalt seemed much the same. Young too, Skyfire guessed. Despite the dramatics of their fight, they didn't seem to be doing any serious damage. Skyfire decided to leave them alone.  

The Autobots were largely clumped near the distillery. He headed in the exact opposite direction, towards the hills and short cliffs that stuck up in jagged clumps of stone. He flew up to one of the lower plateaus, where he had a good view of the two factions. There he stayed, praying nobody noticed him. He didn't want to be ordered to join a battle he wasn't prepared for. He certainly didn't want to be accused of treason or desertion. Best to stay there, out of the way and unnoticed, until the battle ended and he could rejoin the retreat.    

Motion at the corner of his vision caught his attention. Fear leapt into his spark; he wasn’t alone. Trying to sneak further back into the treeline, Skyfire scanned the ridge.    

He saw wings. White and red and achingly, impossibly familiar.    

Skyfire’s spark broke. He was moving, running, before a single coherent thought crossed his processer.    


	31. SS: Reunion

 ->SS<-    

Something grabbed Starscream from behind. Thick arms latched onto him, pinning his arms to his side, and his wings were pressed against a wide chest. Starscream squawked and jerked away, but the other’s grip was too strong. Even when he used his claws, scratching the other’s plating, the arms only tightened.    

The grip shifted, and then something nuzzled against the thin plating of his neck. Squeaking in embarrassment, Starscream froze. Warm breath tickled his plating. Starscream blushed. Had he just… His attacker had just stuck his face in Starscream’s neck! That was not okay! Embarrassed and furious, Starscream was about to tear into the other mech’s face with his claws when he realized the other mech was speaking.    

“You’re alive,” he whispered, voice muffled by Starscream’s plating. “Primus, you’re alive. I was so worried.”    

Starscream’s arms fell back to his side, and the anger drained out of him. He knew that voice. He…    

“Skyfire?” he whispered. His voice broke on the syllable, and the mech’s arms—Skyfire’s arms, they were _Skyfir_ _e_ _’s_ —tightened around him.    

With trembling hands, Starscream reached up. One hand found another, much larger partner against his chest, curling his fingers around the Shuttle’s. The other reached further up, towards the helm still nestled against his. His fingers found the familiar, blocky crest first. Below that were the sharp angles of a helm, then optics and a cheek wet with tears. Starscream cupped the thin plating, wiping away the wetness. He knew those features as well as his own. The flat curve of a nose and solid planes of the cheek. His palm fit perfectly against the plating, fingers splayed and thumb brushing the soft curve of a lip.    

He needed to see.    

As he turned his head, blue and white plating fill his vision. Skyfire was hunched over him, pressed as closely as possible. Gently, Starscream pushed Skyfire’s helm up, until he was staring into blue optics he thought he’d never see again.    

“They told me you’d deactivated,” Starscream rasped. Skyfire’s face crumbled, and his grip tightened. The pressure was almost painful, but Starscream didn’t care. Not with Skyfire here and alive.    

Leaning up, Starscream pulled Skyfire’s head down until their foreheads rested together in familiar, affectionate contact.    

“I’m sorry,” Skyfire said. “So sorry. I should never have brought you to this planet. If I’d just left when we saw the storm coming, then-”    

“Skyfire?” Starscream interrupted. “Shut up.” Slag the storm, and the expedition, and anyone with it. He’d just gotten his sparkmate back, and he wanted to bask in that feeling for a while longer. Not listen to Skyfire’s inane apologies.    

“I’m never letting you go again,” Starscream mumbled. Skyfire laughed, but Starscream was serious. Last time they’d been separated, all Pit had broken lose. His moron of a partner was gonna stay right here, where Starscream could watch over him. He’d kill anyone who stood in their way. 

**AN** : Fun fact, this is the first scene I ever wrote for this story. The start of everything; literally every other scene was designed around this one. I didn't even know the Stunticons would be a part of this story back then. Amazing how much has changed and these two idiot's reunion remained almost entirely the same. I love them so much.     

 


	32. SF: Reunion

-<SF>-    

Skyfire could have stayed like that forever.    

He’d spent so long wondering if Starscream was alright. If he’d even survived. In his darkest moments, he’d thought… But Starscream was here. His frame was solid in his arms, and Skyfire could weep for everything he thought he’d never have again.    

Then a stray blaster bolt shot past them, close enough to hear the crackle of energy, and Skyfire remembered.    

They were still in the middle of a battlefield. More importantly, Starscream was still here, where any stray energy bolt could damage him. Skyfire reluctantly pulled away, though his hands continued to grip Starscream’s plating and their fields remained in full contact.    

“We need to get out of here,” he said, glancing around. An odd splotch of red on Starscream’s wings caught his optics. He froze. One hand drifted down, touching the new symbol imprinted into his plating.    

“The Autobots?” he asked. Starscream didn’t answer. He was staring straight ahead. Coincidentally, Skyfire realized, his optics were almost exactly level with Skyfire’s own brand.    

Starscream looked up with a crooked grin on his face. “The ‘Cons, ‘Fire? Really?”    

Skyfire shook his head. “What a mess,” he murmured.    

The ground rumbled under their feet, and Skyfire looked over. They couldn't leave together, not like this, and they couldn't stay much longer. More mecha were coming into view as the battle shifted closer. If anyone noticed them together they would be in trouble, regardless of faction. They'd be accused of treason at best and outright attacked at worst. 

He'd just found Starscream again. He refused to let him get hurt due to impatience. 

Reluctantly, Skyfire uncurled his fingers from Starscream’s shoulders and stepped out of reach. Starscream grumbled his dissatisfaction and tried to follow him, but Skyfire stopped him, shaking his head.    

“One solar cycle,” he said, then rattled off the coordinates of a nearby, isolated blip of an island. “I’ll find you, no matter what.”    

They could talk freely then, when they didn't have to worry about an active battlefield. They'd have time to sort out the whole mess and figure out what to do next. 

Panic lit up Starscream’s field, strong enough Skyfire flinched back. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “You’re staying right here with me, or so help me, Skyfire, I will-”    

“I’m sorry,” Skyfire said. He meant it. That didn’t stop him from activating his thrusters. “Please don’t follow me.”    

And, spark breaking, he took off.   


	33. SS: Waiting Period

**- >SS<-**

One solar cycle.

The thought ran through Starscream’s processer like a mantra. Over and over and over again. He’d see Skyfire again. He just needed to wait one short solar cycle.

Slag that.

Patience had never been Starscream’s strong suit. He wanted to fly to the Nemesis and demand to see his partner. He wanted to go back in time and yell at Skyfire until he never even thought of leaving him. Wanted to drag him into the Ark or where-slagging-ever and lock themselves away for a vorn. He wanted… He…

He just wanted Skyfire. His absence howled in Starscream’s spark, a greedy, demanding creature. Skyfire had been dead. Starscream had grieved for him and completely failed at moving on. Now he was back, was alive, and he was still gone.

Starscream had no clue how to deal with that,

His spark was a mess of emotions, of fury and elation and grief and so many others tangled up in one huge knot. Starscream… wasn’t good at dealing with feelings. That had always been Skyfire’s job, and he’d left.

The idea of company was revolting, so Starscream locked himself in his quarters. One solar cycle, he reminded himself. You can hold yourself together for one more.

He was halfway through it when the knock came. Starscream jerked in surprise, banging his wing against the edge of the berth. He bit back a curse at the shock of pain.

The knocker paused. Then he said, “Are you alright? That sounded painful.”

Bluestreak. Starscream groaned. “’M fine. Go away.”

Bluestreak shuffled his feet outside the door. Then he tried again. “Are you sure? You were acting kinda weird after the mission. Sideswipe noticed too; he didn’t say anything, but he was worried about you. I know you haven’t been in many battles, and I know the first ones can be really, really hard, and I wanted to-”

Starscream opened the door to stop his babbling. Bluestreak’s face lit up as Starscream glared at him. “See? Fine,” he said. He turned away, meaning to close the door again, but Bluestreak’s hand stopped him.

“You don’t look ‘fine,’” he said. “I mean, you don’t look bad or anything, but… are you sure nothing happened? Not that you have to tell me anything, but you look like you could use some company and I wouldn’t mind if you--”

“Why do you even care?” Starscream said, interrupting him mid-sentence.

Bluestreak hesitated. “Well… we’re friends, aren’t we?” he said. “And… friends look out for each other.”

The honesty in his voice gave Starscream pause. “I don’t really do the whole ‘friends’ thing,” he said. He knew what most mecha thought of him. He’d gained a lot more enemies than ‘friends’ over the vorns, and he was fine with that. The change here was… jarring.

Starscream snorted. “I’m surrounded by softsparks,” he muttered, too low for Bluestreak to hear. Then, louder, he said, “It’s… not what you’re thinking. Give me half a solar cycle, and I’ll be fine.”

Bluestreak visibly ached to keep asking questions, but he throttled himself back. “Can I at least keep you company ‘till then? I promise I won’t ask anything else.”

Starscream hesitated. He was about to reject the idea when Bluestreak continued.

“The Aerialbots have been worried too. They’ll feel better if they can see you.”

Slag. That had him. When did Bluestreak learn how to push his buttons like that? “Fine,” Starscream grumbled, “but no crowds.”

Bluestreak smiled, and Starscream hesitantly followed him out of his room. In the back of his processer, though, the countdown kept ticking.

Only half a solar cycle left.

~.*.~


	34. SF: Waiting Period

**- <SF>-**

  
As soon as Skyfire stepped off the ship’s loading dock, he made a beeline for the washracks. Organic grime itched where it had rubbed into his plating, and he needed a thorough washing. 

His sparks soared inside his chest, and it took everything he had not to let it show on his face. He couldn’t let anyone else find out what had happened, but… Starscream had survived. Orns of grief flaked off his shoulders, and Skyfire felt lighter than he had since he’d first awoken. 

He offlined his optics when he heard someone walk up behind him, hoping they would ignore him. No such luck. Thundercracker was there, waiting for Skyfire to acknowledge him. 

“You did well for your first battle,” he said. 

“Thanks,” Skyfire bit out, sharper than he usually spoke. “Should I assume this will be a regular occurrence from now on?”

"I'll do what I can to assign you elsewhere," Thundercracker said, "but..." 

"But you have to follow Megatron's orders," Skyfire finished for him. 

Fear ached in his chest strong enough to be physically painful. Skyfire forced himself to breath, pushing the nausea away. One glance of a battlefield had been more than enough, but he’d make it through more if he needed. Starscream would be there, he reminded himself. The Seeker was a fighter; he would never sit out a fight when others were in danger. Instead of helping, the thought of Starscream fighting in the war—getting shot at by Skyfire' teammates—only made it worse. 

Maybe, if he was there, Skyfire could help though. Watch out for him, just in case. Not that Starscream needed it—Skyfire knew better than anyone how skilled and determined his Sparkmate was—but... just in case. 

Thundercracker was still there, watching him as Skyfire lost himself in thought. Embarrassed, Skyfire set the drying rag down and, murmuring some sort of excuse, tried to leave. Thundercracker stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

"Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you adjust," he said. "I'll do what I can to keep you safe." 

Skyfire nodded and forced his lips into a strained smile. He kept walking. 

… 

The cycles passed agonizingly slowly. 

Skyfire normally prized himself for his patience. He had, after all, survived and enjoyed decavorns in close quarters with Starscream when lesser mecha had run screaming after an orn. Now, though, Skyfire found himself unpleasantly short tempered as he waited for the solar cycle to pass. He avoided company, even the Stunticons, to save them from his foul mood. 

One solar cycle. That was all. 

Skyfire was out of the Nemesis the second the clock ticked over and he was free. He practically ran to the loading dock. The trip was logged as a basic flight, and Skyfire took off. 

The island he'd given Starscream was a small, nondescript pile of rock and sand with a few, small plants scattered about. He'd arrived several breems before the time he'd given Starscream, but that didn't stop him from scanning the area as he approached. Nobody was there. Skyfire tried not to be disappointed. 

Starscream was alive. 

Starscream was nearby. 

A few more breems, and he'd be able to see him again. Talk with him, like he hadn't been able to on the battlefield. He wanted to know everything that had happened. He wanted to know what had happened after the ice and how Starscream had ended up with the Autobots. Whether he was happy. 

Skyfire hadn't been this happy in ages. Just... Starscream. Finally. 

When he heard the familiar roar of engines, Skyfire felt like his spark stopped. He stood on the sand and walked to the edge of the water, staring up at a small black speck in the sky as it grew closer and closer. Red and blue came into focus; it was him. 

Starscream transformed in the air above Skyfire's head, just as graceful as he'd always been. He stayed there, hovering, for several kliks before dropping down to the sand. 

Starscream looked good. Healthy. Completely identical to the last time Skyfire had seen him too. He was staring at Skyfire as if he couldn't quite believe the Shuttle was there. The look on his face was... it looked vulnerable, which wasn't right. Starscream was confidence and chaos. He was endless determination and laughter in the middle of a fight, and Skyfire had never seen him look remotely afraid before. 

Starscream stood there, staring, with his hands at his sides, as if he wasn't sure what to do with them. Skyfire made the first move. He stepped forward until he was right in front of the Seeker, close enough to touch. Starscream raised his head to keep meeting his optics but otherwise didn't move. Slowly, Skyfire raised a hand, brushing his fingers lightly against Starscream's cheek. 

"Starscream," he said, voice soft. 

Starscream punched him. 

~.*.~


	35. SS: Answers and Negotiations

->SS<\-    

Punching Skyfire was even more satisfying than Starscream thought it would be.    

The look of surprise on his face. The way he went sprawling on the sand. He raised his hand to the dent on his cheek, looking first at Starscream's curled fist then up to his optics again. He didn't even look angry. 

"Star?" he asked. "What?"    

"You left me," Starscream said. "You show up out of fragging nowhere, tackle me from behind, and then you just fly off again like it was nothing!"    

"People were firing at us!" Skyfire said. "It was too dangerous to-"    

"I don't care!" Starscream shouted. "Do you have any idea what I-"    

To his embarrassment, his voice cracked. He closed his optics and breathed, struggling to regain control. No weakness, he thought. No-    

Starscream barely heard Skyfire standing again. He jumped when he felt Skyfire's arms close around his shoulders, pulling him close to a broad chest.    

"I'm sorry," Skyfire said. "I never meant to hurt you."    

To Starscream's shame, he felt his composure slipping again. "Doesn't matter. You fragging did."    

Skyfire's arms tightened around him in a silent apology, and Starscream leaned into the embrace. Frag, he'd missed this. Missed Skyfire. It still seemed impossible that he was back.    

"What the hell happened?" he asked. "The Autobots scanned the ice after they found me. You weren't there."    

Skyfire blanched. "Found?" he repeated. "You mean you were-"    

Starscream cut him off. "Oi, don't get distracted! I asked first!"    

Skyfire looked almost physically pained as he obeyed. Starscream almost felt guilty. Not enough to give up his answers though. With a sigh, he pushed away from Skyfire, enough so he could look him in the optics. Still close enough for their plating to touch though.    

"I'm afraid it's a rather short story," he said. "I woke up several orns ago with a faction calling themselves the Decepticons. They had found me frozen in the ice after my crash. I was given the, ah, honor of joining their faction as an assistant in the labs."    

Starscream frowned at him. "They didn't give you a choice about the brand," he stated.    

Skyfire winced. "I didn't exactly have anywhere else to go."    

Starscream grumbled. "Slaggers."    

At least the Autobots had given him a choice. Even if the thought of being Neutral had been repulsive, he'd chosen the brand on his own. Plus, putting Skyfire as an assistant, of all things, instead of giving him his own lab. That was just insulting.    

Skyfire brushed his hand along the outside of Starscream's wing. It was an old motion, one Skyfire had done for decavorns, whenever Starscream's mind started to wander. The familiarity of it was almost painful.    

"The 'Cons musta grabbed you first," Starscream said. "That why the Autobots didn't find you too. By the time they ran their scans, you were already gone."    

So close. They'd been so slagging close to being found together. If the Autobots had stumbled upon him just a bit earlier, then they'd have found Skyfire too. They could have woken up together instead of alone. The thought was bitter.    

Skyfire was quiet for a few moments, absentmindedly petting Starscream's wing. "You keep saying things like that. About how you were found. Starscream, what happened back then? After I crashed?"    

Starscream huffed, like he was trying to laugh. The sound didn't come out right. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "I didn't stop looking, and I got careless."    

"You crashed too."    

Starscream grimaced and nodded. It was embarrassing to hear it laid out like that. He was Starscream, the best fragging Flyer on Cybertron. He didn't crash like some Youngling fresh out of training.    

"The storm wasn't strong enough to stop you. Not if you were trying to get out."    

Starscream winced and looked down, unwilling to meet Skyfire's optics. "You were still in there," he muttered, quietly enough that he could pretend the words didn't still hurt. "I wasn't gonna leave without you."    

He'd almost been to the edge of the storm before realizing Skyfire wasn't with him. Then Skyfire had stopped answering his coms, and it wasn't like Starscream could keep running after that. He'd kept looking until he was exhausted enough to make a mistake, not that it had done either of them any good. He hadn't been strong enough to find Skyfire, let alone get them both to safety.   

Skyfire's arms tightened around Starscream's shoulder, pulling him tight once more. "That was foolish," he said. "Thank you."    

With one last squeeze, Skyfire let go.   

~.*.~


	36. SF: Answers and Negotiations

-<SF>\-   

"My free shift will be over soon," Skyfire said quietly. "I'll need to return shortly."    

The thought was extraordinarily unpleasant. From the look on Starscream's face, he felt the same way. He glanced at the sky behind him, grimacing. "Same here," he said. "Not that the 'Bots really care about where I spend my time, but they get anxious if I disappear for too long."    

"I don't want to leave," Skyfire admitted. It was, in fact, the very last thing he wanted to do. Not when they'd barely had a cycle together, and Skyfire didn't know when he'd be free to visit again.    

Starscream took a deep breath and turned back to Skyfire, determination lighting up his optics. "Come with me?" he asked.    

Skyfire stopped breathing.    

Starscream moved closer. "The Autobots'll take you in no problem, especially when they learn about the whole fragged up situation. They'll treat you well too. Won't even make you fight if you don't want to. I think they have some sort of hero complex going on, especially the Prime."    

It sounded... nice.    

For several long moments, Skyfire was tempted to say yes. He wasn't particularly fond of Megatron or the atmosphere at the base. There was too much violence and distrust, and so often he felt uncertain of what he should do. If he left, he could be with Starscream again too. Just like old times.    

But this wasn't like changing Academies on Cybertron. This was a war, and following Starscream would mean joining the people who were trying to kill mecha he knew. It would mean abandoning the Younglings, which would be intolerable, and betraying the Seekers and other mecha he'd struck up tenuous friendships with. Skyfire... didn't think he could do it. 

"I'm sorry," he said. He half smiled. "I could offer you security as well if you joined me. The Decepticons can be... harsh, but there's good mecha there too. We could make it work."    

Starscream seemed surprised at the offer, and then just sad. "I got a few people I'm looking out for. I can't abandon them."    

Skyfire nodded, unsurprised but still disappointed. Finally, he stood. He really did need to be getting back. The last thing he wanted was to draw any sort of suspicion down on him.    

"Soon?" he asked, looking at Starscream.    

The Seeker snorted. "You'd better. If you ignore me too long, I'll ambush you myself."    

Skyfire chuckled. "I'll be sure not to let too much time pass then. Flyers are released at least once a decaorn to fly; I'll be here."    

They stared at each other, neither one quite willing to make the first move to leave. Finally, Skyfire couldn't put it off any longer. He transformed.    

…    

He passed Thundercracker on his walk back to his quarters after reporting in. The Seeker slowed, looking at him oddly.    

"You're in a good mood," he said. "Did something happen?"    

Skyfire shook his head. "It's just been a good day."    

It really, really had. They hadn't resolved anything, but he'd seen Starscream. He'd talked to him, and they'd see each other again, hopefully soon. Skyfire couldn't stop smiling.    

 ~.*.~


	37. SS: Questions and Pranks

->SS<-

Starscream flew aimlessly for a cycle after Skyfire left. He needed the time to think and to calm down before he could stand being inside the Ark again. Even after landing, he didn’t lock himself in his room like usual. He didn’t particularly want company either, so he ended up wandering the empty hallways instead. Eventually, he wandered into someone he knew. 

Bluestreak grinned when he saw Starscream, and Starscream wasn’t particularly off-put when the Praxian quickened his steps to catch up.  

“Starscream! How are you!” he said. “I don’t often see you around here. You look a lot better too; that’s great!” 

Starscream looked away, embarrassed by his concern. “I said I would be, didn’t I?” 

“So whatever it was got fixed?” 

Starscream hesitated. ‘Fixed’ was a strong word. Skyfire was still halfway across the world, surrounded by mecha Starscream didn’t trust. They were still technically at war. Yet, they’d managed to talk. He’d gotten answers, and he’d see Skyfire again before long.  

“Yeah,” he said. “I think it was. Better than before, at least.” 

Bluestreak walked with him for a bit, chatting merrily, until his shift started and he needed to leave. Starscream was almost sad to see him go. Eventually, he felt up for more company, and he found his way to the rec-room. 

… 

Starscream had stopped being surprised when the Twins ambushed him in the rec room.    

It was always the same too. They'd sidle up behind him and claim the seats right next to him, trapping him in place with their frames. They'd effortlessly block any retaliation or escape attempt Starscream tried, and Sideswipe would put an arm around his shoulders. Then they'd try to convince him 'bout whatever stupid plan they were plotting next.    

Honestly, sometimes Sideswipe's mind was enough to impress even Starscream. He wouldn't have minded the occasional ambush if they weren't so slagging good at sneaking around everywhere. Honestly, he was pretty sick of people sneaking up behind him.    

So when Sideswipe and Sunstreaker slid next to him, Starscream still jabbed an elbow into Sideswipe’s side as he was getting comfortable. "Slag do you want this time?" he grumbled.    

Sideswipe grinned. It was a mischievous grin; a plotting one. Starscream was immediately interested.    

"Weeeelll," Sideswipe drawled. "We've got a bit of an idea. Just a little fun, 's all. And we were wonderin' if you'd like to get in on it."    

Starscream set his energon cube down and gave Sideswipe his full attention. "I'm listening."    

Both Twins smiled. Sideswipe said, "There's this minibot, you see, who's been making a real mess of things. Cliffjumper. We figure, there’s enough red mecha running around, and he’s overdue for a repaint. So, being the nice, accommodating mecha we are, we thought we’d help him out a bit. You in?" 

Starscream remembered him. The red Minibot from the fight, and the one who'd tried to bring up those ridiculous charges. He’d seen him a few times since, though only at a distance. He doubted either of them could hold their temper if they were any closer together. Normally Starscream wouldn’t care, but he’d rather not have to deal with another public fight. 

“Depends,” Starscream said. “What do you want me to do?” 

Sideswipe lit up. “We already got the reprogrammed nanites, and we could use someone to hack the washracks. Sunny and I know how ta hack a door and camera, but we’re not so good at the more subtle stuff.” 

Starscream considered it for a moment. On one hand, he’d rather not end up in the brig again this soon, even over something as minor as paint nanites. On the other, Cliffjumper deserved it.  

“Fine,” he said, “but if this goes wrong I’m blaming you.” 

Then he moved his energon cube aside and demanded Sideswipe show him the plans they’d already made. If he was going to risk trouble, then he was going to slagging well make sure it was worth it. 

~.*.~ 


	38. SF: Questions and Interrogations

-<SF>-

Most of the time, Skyfire ate alone, but it wasn’t unusual for company to find him. Usually it was the Stunticons looking for entertainment, but he also wasn’t surprised when Rumble and Frenzy invited themselves over. He was, however, somewhat uneasy about the shit-eating grins on their faces and the way they sandwiched Skyfire between them, one on each side. Of course, Skyfire could have easily lifted them up to move them, if he wanted to, but that would be quite rude. 

“Can I help you?” he asked. 

Twin grins met him, sharpened by an edge of malice. “Maybe,” Rumble drawled. “Ya see, we got a question an’ thought we’d talk to ya first ‘fore running to Megatron.” 

Skyfire looked between them, more confused than anything. Something unpleasant settled in his spark. 

“I don’t understand,” he said. 

Rumble sighed and shook his head like Skyfire was disappointing him. “The Seeker,” he said. “Who’s he?” 

Skyfire’s spark ran cold. Physically moving the Cassetticons and running for it was starting to look like an attractive idea. 

“I- I don’t,” Skyfire stuttered, but Frenzy cut him off. 

Don’t even start,“ he said. “You’re a horrible liar.” 

Skyfire fell silent. 

“Like we said, this is a courtesy call ‘cause we like you. This is yer chance ta explain yourself ‘fore we go to Megatron an’ tell him we saw you consorting with a ‘Bot.” 

“Normally we wouldn’t even give you this much, considering how chummy you two were, but something weird’s going on. We tried running the guy through the system, but nothing popped up. No stats, no history, nothing. And lemme tell you, Soundwave has the best info network. Mecha don’t just slip through the cracks like that.” 

“So here we are. An’ fer your sake, I’m hoping ya have a real good reason.” 

Skyfire glanced between them as they spoke, feeling more and more trapped. He swallowed hard and decided to go with the truth. 

“He’s my sparkmate,” Skyfire whispered. 

Whatever the Twins were expecting, that wasn’t it. Rumble’s optics widened. Frenzy cursed. 

“Yer _what?_ ” Rumble said. 

“My sparkmate. That was the first time I’d seen him since I’d woken up. I wasn’t sure he’d survived.” 

Skyfire’s voice trembled at the last sentence. He knew Starscream was alive and healthy now,  but he’d spent too long uncertain of the Seeker’s fate. It was still a painful subject. 

Rumble slumped back against the seat, looking stunned and vaguely guilty. “Well, slag,” he muttered. “An’ the reason he wasn’t in the system?” 

“He was with me in the storm and crashed while searching for me. The Autobots found him shortly after I was unfrozen.” The Cassetticons actually seemed to be listening, so Skyfire rushed the next words, afraid he’d lose them again. “I’m not planning on leaving the Decepticons or betraying information. I don’t even know any intel. I just… wanted to see him. That’s all.” 

“You gonna see him again?” 

Skyfire hesitated, and Rumble waved him off. “Nah, don’t answer that. Plausible deniability, an’ all that. You know Megatron will kill you if he finds out ‘bout this.” 

Yes, Skyfire knew. Hearing it laid bare like that, like some kind of inevitability, made his breath catch. His voice was hoarse when he answered. ”Will you at least give me a headstart before you tell him? I won’t go to the Autobots, I swear, but I-” 

Rumble cut him off. “Relax, we aint gonna snitch on you.” He nudged his Twin’s side. “Right, Frenzy?” 

“Primus slag it,” Frenzy grumbled. “You’re too pathetic to turn in. I swear, if you do anything that hurts us or the Cause, I’ll kill you myself.” 

“Thank you.” 

Rumble looked at him like he was an idiot. “I’m only doin’ this ‘cause I pity ya, an’ even we aren’t cruel enough to get ya killed over something as stupid as this. Not that it’ll stop us from using it as blackmail or something though.” 

Skyfire understood. He was still thankful though. Sharing a glance, the Twins stood up together and made to leave. 

“Good talk!” Frenzy said with an obviously fake smile. “Don’t do anything stupid. We’ll be watching.” 

Skyfire watched them go. He was trembling when he stood up. Several people were watching him curiously, though none had been close enough to overhear their conversation. He left without talking to any of them.


	39. SS: Kaleidoscopic Cliffjumper

->SS<-

Starscream heard Cliffjumper long before he came into sight. The mech was practically shouting expletives as he marched down the hallway. Starscream glanced up, as did everyone else in the room, but he was careful not to react past mild curiosity.

Cliffjumper was a sight to behold when he burst into the rec-room. His standard red was almost entirely gone, replaced by haphazard splatters of puce and neon orange. The entire room fell silent. Someone muffled a laugh.

“Nice paintjob," someone said. "I didn’t know you were in the market for a new look!”

Cliffjumper snarled at them. “Someone hacked the slagging washracks,” he said, directing the words at the entire room. “Tell me who you are so I can rip your optics out of your fragging face.”

Nobody volunteered. Cliffjumper’s temper worsened. His optics settled on Starscream, and he snarled. “You!’ he shouted, pointing at Starscream. “It was you, wasn’t it? Slagging Seeker!”

Starscream’s hand tightened on his energon cube. He was perfectly capable of taking credit for a prank, particularly when the target deserved it. He knew he hadn’t left any proof though, especially not anything that could be found so quickly. Cliffjumper was just being an aft.

“Now why would I waste my time on someone so pointless?” Starscream drawled. He dragged his optics up Cliffjumper’s frame and smirked. “Besides, if you ask me, whoever it was did you a favor. This is an improvement over the travesty of a paintjob you used to have.”

Cliffjumper flushed, but his embarrassment quickly turned to fury. “I’ll get you slagging arrested! You won''t weasel your way out of this one.”

Starscream delicately raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any proof?”

Cliffjumper sputtered some kind of excuse. Starscream wasn’t exactly listening. He snorted and turned back to his energon cube, dismissing the Minicon as insultingly as he could. The entire room was still watching, and he heard several muffled laughs from them. Then Cliffjumper’s enraged shout rose over them, growing closer. Starscream readied his claws. He wasn’t about to start a fight, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about a chance for a rematch.

Before Cliffjumper reached him, someone else stepped in. Starscream immediately recognized the black and white of the Autobot TIC.

“Alright, that’s enough outta you,” Jazz said, putting a hand on Cliffjumper’s shoulder. “You don’t really want to get slammed for attacking ‘nother ‘Bot, do you? ‘Specially not so soon after your last stint in the brig, an’ in front of alla these people.”

Cliffjummper tore himself away from Jazz’s hand, though he didn’t charge towards Starscream again. He gestured at the color splattering his frame. “Look what he did! This is after I tried scrubbing it off. He reprogrammed the slagging color nanites!”

“An’ I’m sure that, if ya give it a week, the nanites will go back ta normal. Leave the detective work ta Prowl and Red Alert; I’m sure they’ll do their best ta find the mecha responsible. So don’t screw yourself over tryin’ ta handle this personally.”

Cliffjumper seemed like he'd be perfectly happy to accept the punishment, actually, but having Jazz physically blocking him seemed to get the message through. Nobody wanted to get on the bad side of the Saboteur. Not even enranged half-bits like him.

Cliffjumper made a graceless exit from the room. His back was just as multicolored as the rest of his frame, though his aft was almost entirely neon.

Starscream kept nursing his energon. A few mecha snuck him some subtle congratulations that had Starscream hiding a smile. Seemed that Cliffjumper wasn’t the most popular mech, though there were a few mecha—mostly other Minicons—that were glaring at him instead.

A few breems after Cliffjumper left, the Twins came barreling into the rec room. Starscream drained his cube before their chaos reached his table.

“Cliffjumper’s locked himself in his quarters ‘till mecha stop laughing at ‘im in the hallway,” Sideswipe said, grinning brightly. “I can’t believe we missed his big debut! We’ve seen the image captures though. I’d call that a success, yeah?”

Starscream nodded, begrudgingly impressed. “You did a good job on the nanites,” he said. “That was some skilled programming on the color.”

The Twins smiled, proud of their accomplishment. Then Sideswipe's grin faded. “I heard Cliffjumper was making a nuisance of himself. Sorry you got caught up in that alone.”

Starscream waved him off. “Of course the slagger was gonna come after me. The mech's got a grudge. So long as he doesn't have any proof—and I'm pretty slagging sure we didn’t leave any—we've got nothing to worry about.”

Sideswipe raised his voice after that, talking about something borning at a volume that other people could overhear. More people joined them, enticed by Sideswipe's friendliness. Starscream wasn't particularly pleased with the gathering crowd, but he tolerated it. Maybe enjoyed it a little bit, but he left soon enough when the noise became more irritating than pleasant. He was smiling when he said his goodbyes


	40. SF: Combacticons

-<SF>-

Skyfire honestly enjoyed performing repairs. He liked being able to see the tangible result of his effort. He didn't have to wonder whether he was making any sort of impact or if his work was helping anyone: he could see it, right in front of him, when a mech walked away in better shape than when they'd come in.

He didn't enjoy seeing the wounds though, or the times when injuries were outside of his capabilities. Most of the mecha he saw had minor wounds, since Hook and the official med-bay took care of the critically wounded. He mostly saw Seekers, but plenty of Grounders sought him out as well.

And, ever since that first time, the Stunticons followed him. At least one of them always seemed to be nearby while he worked, which was oddly touching. Somewhat annoying when they started to loom, though. Skyfire preferred having some space while he worked, and he didn't need a minder, especially not ones younger than him.

It was a while before he saw Vortex and the other Combacticons again, long enough that he'd started to forget how unsettling the first meeting had been. So when Vortex and Blast Off entered the room, Skyfire noted their entrance but dismissed them in favor of the partially disassembled knee of his current patient.

"Oi, Civvie!" Vortex said as he sauntered inside. "I need ya to come with us. Onslaught's orders!"

Skyfire didn't look up again. He kept working, carefully soldiering some support struts back together.  
  
"I’ll be finished with these mecha in a few breems," he said. "I can help you after that."  
  
The aforementioned mecha didn't seem altogether pleased at being included. One of them, a mech with a shallow gash across his chest, snuck out the door. Skyfire ignored him.

Beside him, Wildrider stood up beside Skyfire. He was the only Stunticon there; Breakdown had left to get energon, and the others were resting after a rather intense raid.

"Motormaster and the rest are on their way," he told Skyfire, quietly enough that the others wouldn't hear.

Skyfire glanced at him, confused, before turning back to his patient. He was nearly done with the basic connections, after all, and he didn't want the struts to shift before he could cement them in place. At his side, Wildrider bristled as Blast Off stepped forward.

"Hey, didn't you hear him? Skyfire said to wait for a minute, so why don't you-"

"No."

Vortex leaned close to Wildrider, far closer than was polite, and smiled. It was an unpleasant look on his face. "As I said, Onslaught gave us some orders. And Ons's orders are a whole lot more important than either of yours."

Wildrider lunged forward, fists raised to attack. He was using one of the forms Skyfire had drilled into him. Vortex blocked the first punch, was nicked by the second, and then Wildrider's wrist was caught in Vortex's grip. Vortex twisted, and he tossed Wildrider across the room. The Youngling hit the wall with a loud thud and tumbled down, landing with a crash on one of the abandoned chairs.

"Hey!" Skyfire shouted, lurching up. The welder dropped, forgotten, from his hand, and the mech he'd been working on wasted no time in scrambling away, despite his missing plating.

Before Skyfire could do anything, Blast Off grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the door. He didn't even bother looking at Skyfire, as if he'd already dismissed the Shuttle as a threat.

Blast Off wasn't even looking at him when Skyfire used his other fist to punch him straight in the jaw. Blast Off grunted in surprise and pain, and his grip loosened. Skyfire pulled his arm free and went for a kick, trying to force Blast Off further away.

This time, the other mech was ready. He caught Skyfire's leg and pulled, forcing him off-balance. Skyfire didn't even see Blast Off's other arm come up until it connected with his cheek, and Skyfire went down. He landed on the ground hard, disoriented.

Behind them, Vortex was cackling. "Aw, the Civvie's got some fight in 'im! How cute."

Skyfire shook his head and made to stand again. On his left, Wildrider was still crumpled by the wall, though he was slowly stirring, Good. No lasting damage then. The rest of the situation was looking rather worse though. Skyfire was proud of his ability to defend himself, but he didn't fancy his odds against two trained, experienced soldiers.

Vortex sighed as Skyfire stood and fell into another defensive stance. "Really?" he said. "'You're gonna try that again? And here I thought you were supposed to be smart!"

A blur of black and purple barreled into Vortex from behind. Vortex went down with a yelp under the weight.

Motormaster had arrived. The rest of the Gestalt wasn't far behind him.

All of a sudden, Skyfire realized he'd never seen Motormaster actually angry before. Indignant, yes. Throwing a temper tantrum, most certainly, But not true anger, the kind that sat heavy on your tongue and twisted your spark into knots until you could hardly think past the fury.

Drag Strip jumped in with a whooping war cry, and even Dead End joined, only somewhat reluctantly, Breakdown immediately went to Wildrider's side, who was stumbling his way back upright and rubbing at his helm.

"You stay away from us!" Motormaster shouted.

He was struck down by a heavy blow from Blast Off. Something snapped as energon trickled down his face, not that Motormaster seemed to notice.

"Leave," Motormaster said. Wildrider had recovered enough to stand on his own, and the four of them had gathered around their Gestalt leader. They'd fallen into a strange formation, almost like a cross, with Motormaster in the middle.

Vortex laughed. The sound was even more high pitched than usual. "You're not seriously gonna combine here, are you? Would Menasor even fit in the room?"

Skyfire wasn't sure either, but Motormaster didn't back down. "I said go!" He said. The five of them clumped closer together. Not for comfort though, or out of fear. It was like they were preparing for something.

Skyfire had never seen a gestalt combine before. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't end up seeing it right then.

Vortex took a step forward. Something _shifted_  with the Stunticons, rolling through all five of them at once. A twist and the start of movement, like the first steps of a transformation spread between five people. Then Vortex raised his hand, a rifle unfolded, and he shot something directly into the center of the Younglings.

Motormaster screamed; the sound was echoed by four other voices. The five shivered. Fell apart. Whatever transformation had begun reversed itself, and five separate frames were sprawled on the floor. Motormaster was clutching his leg, which was already coated in energon. The other four seemed disoriented, and they were slow in picking themselves up.

Laughing, Vortex started walking forward with Blast Off behind him. Skyfire lurched forward, putting himself between them and the Stunticons.

"That's enough!" he said. "They're down. I'm coming with you, alright?"

A few weak protests arose behind him; Skyfire ignored them. The Combacticons stopped walking forward, though Vortex didn't stop laughing.

"What, you mean you're giving up? After all that? _Boring_. How about we rough you up a little more? Teach you a real lesson?"

Skyfire shuddered, but Blast Off spoke up first,

"Onslaught said to hurry up. You can have your fun later."

Vortex pouted. "C'mon, just a couple minutes?"

" _Now_ , or I'll report you for insubordination."

Vortex grumbled and carried on, but, with a theatrical groan, he beckoned Skyfire forward. Behind him, the Stunticons had recovered enough for Drag Strip to stagger to his side.

"Hey, _I'm_  not done yet, and I-"

Skyfire pushed him away. "Go tend your brother," he said. "I'll find you afterwards."

"But-"

" _Go_!" Drag Strip flinched, and Skyfire softened his voice. "Make sure you put presssure on the damage and clamp off any torn energon lines you see."

He left.

\- /-

  
Skyfire repaired Brawl, who'd lost mobility in his arm. He ignored Vortex's taunts and Onslaught's looming presence. When he finished, he left.

He found the Stunticons in their quarters and accepted their worried questions and inspection. They'd carried Motormaster back, and Skyfire patched the damage to his leg.Then Skyfire went looking for Thundercracker.

Thundercracker was easy to find if you needed him. He had his own office, like many of the Officers, and he was one of the few that accepted visitors. Skyfire hesitated in front of the door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked. The door slid open.

Thundercracker looked up as he entered, and he raised an eyebrow when he saw Skyfire. He set the datapad he'd been holding aside.

"Skyfire," he said with a polite incline of his head. "It's not often I see you outside of training. What can I do for you?"

Several moments passed before Skyfire cold find the words. "Earlier," he said. "You mentioned protection. A deal, with you and your Seekers. For medical treatment. I would-" Skyfire stuttered, and he took a deep breath before continuing. "I would like to inquire about the terms."

Skyfire couldn't meet Thundercracker's optics as the Seeker regarded him from across the desk. "You were very set against the idea earlier. What changed?"

"There was an altercation earlier. With the Combacticons. The Stunticons were with me; they were injured." His voice grew stronger as he met Thundercracker's gaze. "I want them to be included as well. That's my condition."

The Younglings had gotten hurt because of him. Skyfire couldn't let that happen again. He refused. And... he knew he couldn't protect them by himself. He'd already thoroughly proven that point.

Skyfire wouldn't set aside his ideals for his own self-interest, but he'd do it in a sparkpulse if it meant keeping the others safe.

"I'll lay out a contract," Thundercracker said.

Half a cycle later, Skyfire left with the signed contract, several new promises, and a bitter taste in his mouth. They would be safe though, him and the Younglings. Skyfire couldn't regret it.

~.*.~


	41. SS: Cliffjumper's Revenge

>-SS<\- 

Starscream sat down at his normal table, and something exploded. He froze. Behind him, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker dove for cover, cursing, but Starscream couldn't seem to move his frame. His hands were still poised above the table, feet firmly against the floor, and something cold and thick was sliding down his face and chest. It was on the table too. And the floor.

"What the _slag_  is this," Starscream said.

He let his hands fall the last few inches to rest delicately on the table, and he resisted the urge to flip the entire thing. There was gunk on his wings. His _wings._

Sideswipe appeared at his side and slid his finger through some of the muck on the table. "I think  it's some kinda oil. Maybe mixed with grease too."

Sideswipe's chest was sprinkled liberally with the oil, but he'd escaped the worst of it. Behind him, Sunstreaker subspaced his sword--which Starscream hadn't even noticed him taking it out--and had started cursing violently at the streaks marring his own plating. A few other mecha at nearby tables bore similar splashes, and many mecha were only now relaxing out of defensive stances. Seemed the soldiers hadn't reacted well to the bang.

"I am going to spend a slagging _cycle_ in the washracks," Starscream said as he kicked his chair back and stood. He heard Sunstreaker stomping his way to the showers, but Starscream didn't join him yet. Instead, he ducked down to look under the table. A small block had been crudely taped to the bottom of the table, and a pressure sensor led to Starscream's seat.

It was bulky and slagging ugly, and if Starscream had taken a klik to check before sitting down he'd have found it immediately.

"Cliffjumper?" Sideswipe asked from beside him.

Starscream pried the mechanism from under the table and stood, half crushing it in his claws. "Who else?" he growled. "Meet me in my quarters after shift tonight. We're gonna slagging _destroy_  him."

He strode out of the rec-room, head held high. He could feel the oil dripping as he went, leaving a trail on the floor behind him  A couple mecha were laughing; Starscream recognized Clifffjumper's voice among them. He didn't spare the minibot a single glance.

  -/-

He ran into Wheeljack on the walk over. Rather, he passed several mecha, but only Wheeljack was brave enough to say anything in the face of Starscream's impressive glare. Wheeljack fell into step beside him.

"An experiment gone wrong?" he asked.

Starscream snorted. "Of course not," he said, though he'd had experiments malfunction at least this messily several times before. "A _prank._  And not a very good one."

Wheeljack nodded and didn't ask any more questions. Good. Starscream knew there was a reason he liked the mech.    
  
"Do you need any help cleaning up? That gunk looks pretty nasty."

Starscream hesitated around the rejection already in his throat. He didn't like letting strangers touch him and, although he was pretty fond of the mech, he was still a stranger. Normally, though, he had Skyfire to help him. With how the oil had sunken into his joints, he wasn't sure he could clean the mess out of his back.  
     
"Fine," Starscream grumbled. "That would be... Yeah. Thanks."

The gratitude came awkwardly, but he forced the words out anyway. He knew about the rules of politeness and social norms, even if he chose to ignore it most of the time. He could acknowledge Wheeljack's help at least, even if he didn't really want it.

Wheeljack was at least polite about it as they dealt with the gunk, and he ignored Starscream's increasingly explicit threats and curses as he struggled to clean his wings. The gunk clung to the seams of his plating and underlying mechanisms, and no matter how hard he scrubbed Starscream didn't feel clean. He gave up eventually and returned to his quarters, where the Twins were waiting for him.

They were inside, of course, having hacked the lock. It must have taken them a while; Starscream had reinforced the security programing himself. The Twins had been talking, and they looked up when Starscream burst in.

"We are going to destroy that slagger," Starscream said.

He'd gotten into prank wars before. Pit, he respected his opponents half the time, when they were tolerable enough and their ideas marginally clever. Cliffjumper's idea of a good prank was dumping oil on someone. Starscream was insulted to have been part of it.

Starscream yanked a chair over to sit, and Sideswipe joined him immediately. "If you want speed, then we can-"

"No," Starscream said. "Let's take the time to do this right." 

He wouldn't waste his time on the first banal idea they thought of. He was better than Cliffjumper. Besides, it would be a nice bonus if that undersized slagger had some time to wait and worry about what their retaliation would be.

~.*.~


	42. SF: Seekers and Stunticons

-<SF>-

  
The next time there was a raid, Skywarp came for him. He smiled and held out his hands. "Orders from the boss," he said with something like an apology in his tone. "We've got a setup for ya too, so don't worry about any a that slag!"

Silently, Skyfire took his hands, and they warped. It was a singularly unpleasant sensation, as if the entire world had come unmoored and his tanks were trying to twist their way out of his frame. Skyfire barely remained standing as they popped back into existence in a room bustling with Seekers. Several of them were injured.

Thundercracker stood in the middle of it all, coordinating the crowd. He nodded at Skyfire. "There's some tools for you on the table over there," he said, motioning towards the edge of the room. "Dirge is already there with a twisted wing. Once you've finished with him, I'll send some others over."

Skyfire nodded and went where he was ordered. The twisted wing was easy enough to fix, and the ones after him were similarly straightforward. Mecha injured enough to need treatment, but not enough to merit the official medical bay. At one point, he heard a commotion near the entryway and looked over to see several familiar figures trying to get in.

"We know he's here!" Motormaster said, trying to shoulder his way past two of the Coneheads. "Let us see him, or we'll fight our way in!"

Skyfire was finishing with the mech in front of him, so he added the last few sutures and walked over. "Motormaster, it's alright. Please don't make a fuss."

Behind Motormaster, Drag Strip snorted. "You were avoiding them like crazy yesterday. If they're threatening you or something, then we'll make them stop!"

Skyfire stiffled a smile, touched by their concern. "I appreciate the offer, but this was my choice. I'll find you later and we can talk, alright?"

None of the Younglings seemed pleased with his answer; they'd probably been looking forward to a fight and the chance to 'rescue' Skyfire. Breakdown and Dead End, at least, seemed less enthusiastic, and all five were looking increasingly uncomfortable now that they'd lost their momentum.

"Really, I'm fine," Skyfire repeated. "I promise I'll explain later."

He wasn't planning on telling them the truth, of course. The Younglings would be unbearable if they learned their safety was the driving force in Skyfire's decision. He seemed to have gotten through to the Younglings though, or maybe they belatedly realized it was a poor idea to pick a fight with the entire Seeker population of the ship.

"You better," Motormaster said. They grumbled a few more things--threats, mostly--in an attempt to save face as they retreated, and then they were gone. Skyfire breathed a sigh of relief. Then he noticed Thundercracker making his way towards him and tensed right back up.

"You've really gained their loyalty," Thundercracker said. "I'm impressed. I thought they were completely wild."

"They're Younglings," Skyfire said, unable to keep his anger from leaking into his tone. "They just needed some instruction and for someone to bother looking after them."

Thundercracker paused as if surprised by Skyfire's words. He nodded slowly; Skyfire hoped he'd given the Seeker something to reflect on.

"I've made arrangements with the Combacticons," Thundercracker said, changing the subject. "They shouldn't bother you or the Stunticons anymore. If they make another move, let me know."

Skyfire nodded. Some of the discomfort in his chest eased. He didn't like this. Didn't like having to listen to Thundercracker's orders or ignoring other mecha he could have been helping instead. It was worth it, though. Except, Thundercracker wasn't done speaking.

"Part of the deal is that, if one of them is damaged, you will fix them, albeit at our discretion."

Skyfire's head snapped up. "I don't want to be near them," he said, voice tight. "I've seen what kind of mecha they are."

"Of course. You'll need to repair them regardless."

"But-"

"The deal was that you'd obey my orders in exchange for protection. These are my orders." His tone softened. "I'll have a Seeker accompany you as well; the Combacticons won't touch you."

Skyfire bowed his head, relenting, though not without effort. Protection or not, he still didn't like Thundercracker's order. He remembered Vortex attacking Wildrider. The Younglings crying out after Motormaster was shot. Skyfire wanted nothing to do with the kind of mecha who would do such a thing.

He'd made a deal, though. And Skyfire always kept his promises.

So Skyfire took a deep breath and returned to his patients. He'd deal with being near the Combacticons again later. He''d figure something out, or he'd have to trust in Thundercracker's decision. Starscream would have known what to do though, and for a moment Skyfire missed him with an ache that stole the breath from his chest. He indulged his grief for a moment before locking it away again. He'd see Starscream again in another half orn, and he had more patients to help.

~.*.~


	43. SS: The Youngings Invervene

>SS<-  

Starscream, surprisingly, enjoyed living in the Ark. He tolerated most of the mecha there and even liked a few of them, which he hadn't expected. Still, flying out to see Skyfire was the best part of his orns. He missed the Shuttle, fraggit. He was used to working beside Skyfire constantly, not seeing him whenever they could steal a spare cycle.  

He hated watching Skyfire fly away afterwards. The Shuttle almost always had to leave first. The Decepticons restricted his flight time, and Skyfire insisted on obeying their rules. Starscream had at least a cycle before he was supposed to be at the labs, so he took to the sky.

He meandered around the island in large, loose circles, trying to burn away his frustration. Lost in thought, Starscream almost missed the glimmer of metal on the ground. Quietly drifting closer, he landed behind the two mecha, who were too busy whispering at each other to notice.

“What the slag are you doing here?” Starscream said. In front of him, Air Raid and Fireflight jumped and spun around..

"I... We were just..." Fireflight stuttered.

He looked at his brother for backup, and Air Raid jumped in. "We were just exploring! What are _you_  doing here?"

“I’m flying, what does it look like?” Starscream said. “Did you two follow me?”

Fireflight flinched, answering the question with his guilt, but Air Raid held his gaze. “We’re not the ones who should be in trouble! Who was that mech? The one we saw flying away?”

Panic licked at Starscream's spark. He didn't let it show on his face. “None of your business.”

“He’s not a ‘Bot. So where did he come from?”

“I said it didn’t matter!”

Air Raid puffed up, obviously preparing for an argument, but it was Fireflight who spoke next. “I think I saw him on the battlefield once. He’s a ‘Con, isn’t he?”

Starscream bit back a curse. He’d hoped the Younglings had been too far away to get a good look at Skyfire. Air Raid gasped loudly and spun around.

“I’m telling Optimus!” he shouted as he prepared to leap into the air. Starscream was faster. He tackled Air Raid before the Youngling could activate his thrusters. He softened the landing, making sure Air Raid didn't hit the ground too hard.

“Don’t!” Starscream said. “You don’t understand.”

Air Raid struggled against him. “You’re consorting with a ‘Con!” he said.

“Barely!”

“You’re ‘barely’ consorting with a ‘Con? What does that even mean?”

Starscream finally managed to pin Air Raid’s arms down. The Jetling obviously didn’t have practice fighting on the ground, but he could really squirm. Fireflight was panicking beside them, unsure what to do or who to help.

“I mean he’s barely a ‘Con!" Starscream said. "Would you just listen to me?”

“No!”

Air Raid made a valiant effort to break free, which didn’t work, and Fireflight looked like he was about to step in to help his brother. Starscream made a decision.

“We crashed together, alright? The ‘Cons found him in the ice instead, and now we’re stuck like this!”

Air Raid stopped struggling. Starscream carefully released his arms, though he didn’t get off his back quite yet.

“He was your friend?” Fireflight asked.

Starscream hesitated. ‘Friend’ was far too weak a word for everything that Skyfire was. He didn’t want to volunteer everything, though. Not even to them.

“Yeah, something like that,” he said. "We've been meeting up to see each other and talk where we won't be interrupted."

Air Raid hesitated. He wriggled on the ground until Starscream let him sit up again. "It's still against the rules," he said. "You'd get in trouble with Prowl and all the other Officers if they found out."

"Like I give a slag!" Starscream said. "What are they gonna charge me with? Talking to someone? Trying to convince him to come back with me so we don't have to keep playing this ridiculous game? I don't care what they think."   
  
He could handle whatever punishment the 'Bots would give him. They were softsparks, even if they were soldiers. But they could stop him from visiting Skyfire again. Starscream didn't think he could handle that.

"He means a... lot to me, and he's all I have left from before the crash. I can't lose him again."

Fireflight, the emotional sap, looked like he might start crying as he nodded. He had to prod Air Raid several times to get an agreement from him.

"I don't trust him," he grumbled. "He's still a 'Con."

"Fine," Starscream said. "Then can you trust me when I say I'm not doing anything stupid?"

The look they gave each other said they weren't quite sure, but he got two reluctant nods.

"I'm still telling Silverbolt," Air Raid said.

Starscream didn't like it, but he didn't argue. At least it wasn't an Officer, and he knew better than to try convincing a Gestalt to keep secrets from each other.

"Go back to the Ark," Starscream said as he started to turn away. "I'm sure your brothers are getting worried."

Air Raid nodded and started to turn, but Fireflight didn't move. "Aren't you coming?" he asked.

Starscream shrugged. "Later. I'm gonna keep flying for a bit longer."

He needed more time in the air. Especially now, after that whole mess. His spark still hadn't settled.

"Do you want company?"

Starscream shook his head. "I want to fly alone."

With a little more prodding, the two Aerialbots left. Starscream watched them go before transforming again and taking to the sky. He could only hope he wouldn't get back to the Ark and find the Officers waiting for him, but he was fairly sure the Aerialbots would keep their promise. Regardless, there wasn't any point in worrying about it, and Starscream let the flight wash his thoughts away


	44. SF: The Younglings Intervene

 -<SF>-

Skyfire had quickly learned that the Decepticons as a whole were quite fond of melodrama. Having lived and traveled with Starscream, Skyfire grew used to it quickly. Although, he did sometimes wish mecha would learn to use com units instead of ambushing him in the hallway. He wasn’t mad, per say, when the Stunticons snuck up behind him and steered him into an empty room, but he would have appreciated some warning.

“Is something wrong?” he asked as he sat in the room's largest chair. It was conveniently surrounded by five smaller chairs, which the Stunticons immediately filled.

“You’ve been avoiding us,” Drag Strip accused. Skyfire could tell he was trying to glare, though it came out more like a pout.

“I have?” Skyfire asked. He certainly hadn’t intended to, but he received five nods from the Younglings.

“We’ve barely seen you in ages! It’s been almost an orn since the last time we sparred, and you’re out flying way more than you used to."

"It's those Seekers, isn't it?" Wildrider cut in. "I knew they did something! I _told_  you, we can handle it. Let us help, and we'll get everything back to normal!"

Skyfire shook his head, hoping to stop that line of thought immediately.. "As I've said, Thundercracker has been perfectly reasonable. The Seekers haven't done anything."

"Then what changed?”

Starscream, Skyfire didn’t say. He’d been leaving to see the Seeker, and, he’d admit, moping in his room more when he was alone. He hadn’t meant to neglect the Younglings. He’d been so preoccupied he hadn’t even realized he’d stopped seeing them around.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll fix it.”

Visiting Starscream really didn’t take up much time; he just needed to stop moping and start paying attention again. The Stunticons didn’t seem happy with his promise though.

“Something changed,” Motormaster said. “What was it?”

“It’s not important, I pro-”

“Don’t pull that slag!” Motormaster said. “We know something’s up. You’ve been acting weird, seriously weird, for orns. Even before you started consorting with Thundercracker. Don’t try to pretend it was nothing!”

Motormaster was angry. Actually angry, and worried too. Skyfire hadn’t expected that.

“It wasn’t anything bad,” he said. “Can’t you just take my word for it?”

Drag Strip threw his hands into the air. “No! Seriously? Weren’t you the one who was always talking ‘bout trust and honesty? Or was that a load of slag to make us tell you shit?”

“Of course not!’ Skyfire said, horrified at the thought.

“Then why are you lying to us?”

Skyfire hesitated. He did trust them, really, but they were young, and this was Starscream. He could get killed if the wrong person found out, and everyone who knew was another mech who could make a mistake.

Looking around at the five Younglings, he knew he’d never regain their trust if he pushed them away now. The main reason he’d refused Starscream’s offer was because of them; he wouldn’t ruin that relationship now.

“It’s not bad,” Skyfire started, but Drag Strip cut him off.”

“Oh, don’t get started on that slag again.”

“Let me finish,” Skyfire ordered, and Drag Strip fell silent. “Like I said, it’s not bad, but it is dangerous.”

“For you or us?”

“Both, probably, but especially me.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I found out something about my time in stasis and my life before the ice...”

….  

They wanted to meet Starscream. Of course they did. Starscream was some mysterious, forbidden figure from Skyfire’s past. He represented danger and excitement, and the Stunticons had always wanted to be part of everything.

He wasn’t surprised when Starscream got upset about the Stunticons finding out. He was, however, quite surprised when Starscream agreed to a meeting.

~.*.~


	45. SS: Playing the Medic

 ->SS<-

In the middle of the day, Starscream usually retreated to the labs or his room to get away from the noise of the more public areas in the Ark. He was just settling into his newest design schematic when a 'com call with priority markings interrupted him.

:Are you in the Ark?: Bluestreak asked, forgoing any pleasantries.

Starscream set his datapad down. :My quarters. Why?:

:Come down to the med-bay. Some of the patrols got in a fight, and Ratchet could use some help.:

Starscream, who'd already started walking towards the door, froze. :Help? Bluestreak, I'm not-:

The sound of the 'com channel closing cut him off. Starscream cursed. Then, after Bluestreak didn't answer Starscream's pings, he kept walking. He didn't pass many people wandering the halls, but he could hear them clustered in the rec-room, talking quietly. He could hear the med-bay as he approached as well, with Ratchet's muffled shouts rising above the rest.

Bluestreak was waiting outside the med-bay doors, foot tapping as his gaze flitted around the hallway. His optics brightened when they landed on Starscream.

"Starscream! You made it!" he said, He twisted, hand moving to the door. "I'll let Ratchet know!"

"Wait a minute! I haven't agreed to anything yet," Starscream said. "I _told_ you I don't have real medical experience. What even happened?"

Bluestreak's hand paused above the keypad "One of the patrols got in a fight with the 'Cons. Sunny got his leg torn up pretty bad; Ratchet and First Aid are in there now. The others only got minor injuries"

"Sunstreaker?" Starscream repeated. He glanced towards the med-bay. "Is he alright?"

Bluestreak nodded. "It was bad for a bit, but Ratchet's with him now so he's fine. I mean, he’s doing better at least and not critical anymore, but Ratchet’s gonna be with him for a couple more cycles still."

Bluestreak’s optics were overly bright, and his doorwings kept flicking back and forth. He was stressed, maybe even coming down from battle high. Bluestreak twitched and looked down the hallway.

"Prowl's calling. He wants to get a debrief from everyone. You know, everyone who's not injured and free to make a report. I was only there for the last couple kliks, but I guess that counts." He turned back to Starscream. "You'll stay here, right? I know you've been saying you don't know this kinda stuff, but I think Ratchet would really, really like having you there. I'd stay and help if I could too, but I can barely weld a straight line for a temp patch. Plus, Prowl will probably want me to stay a cycle; he's real thorough like that."

Bluestreak paused, waiting for an answer, and he looked so hopeful that Starscream found himself nodding. Bluestreak took off immediately, without giving Starscream a chance to change his mind. Starscream watched him go, alone in the hallway. When Bluestreak turned a corner, there was nothing else to look at but the med-bay door in front of him. He could hear mecha moving around behind it and the muffled sounds of voices.

Starscream seriously considered turning around and heading right back to his quarters. He was a scientist not a medic, slaggit! He wasn’t remotely qualified for repairing anyone, and he sure as slag didn’t want the responsibility.

Bluestreak had _asked_ though, and he’d looked so desperate. If it really was just applying pain patches… Well, he knew enough to do _that_ at least. And he could leave right after.

Starscream took a deep breath and jabbed the keypad. It slid open smoothly, and he walked inside like he’d never had any doubts at all. Most of the berths were filled, and Starscream counted five Grounders. A mech Starscream didn’t recognize was tending to a yellow minibot at the far end. He had the markings of an apprentice medic on his shoulder; First Aid, probably. Ratchet was nowhere to be seen, but Starscream could hear his voice coming from behind a closed door.

The mecha waiting for treatment turned to look at Starscream as he entered. Most of them seemed to be in pretty good shape; some scorched or bubbled plating, several lacerations, and so on, but nothing too dangerous. The minibot First Aid was helping had his chest opened up to replace some melted lines. On his left, another Grounder had his arm cut open nearly to the strut and was holding what looked like an old rag over the worst of it.

“Don’t do that!” Starscream said, marching over. “We’re already in a med-bay; find something sterile or you’ll just make it worse!”

He pushed the mecha’s hand away from the wound. The Grounder seemed almost bemused as he let himself be moved, though he must have been in pain. The wound itself wasn’t horrible, but there was some cracked and missing plating along with the broken lines. Starscream took out his welder and a pain patch. He couldn’t do anything for the damaged plating, but he could at least stop the bleeding.

“Do you know what you’re doing with that?” the mech asked, staring at the welder in Starscream’s hands.

“Yes,” Starscream said. “Now shut up and let me work before you get even more energon on the berth.”

He applied the pain patch and waited just long enough for it to activate before he turned on the welder. The Grounder didn’t even flinch as Starscream brought the flame closer, and he was able to work in peace for almost a full klik before the other mech started trying to start a conversation.

“You’re Starscream, right? The mech that was in stasis?”

Starscream took a deep, calming breath and kept welding. “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. Of course he got a mech who liked small talk, and one who thought his crash was a good thing to bring up too!

“Nice to meet you! I’m Hound.”

Starscream didn’t care, but he had enough self-control not to say it out loud. “Great,” he said instead.

“I’d heard you were helping out in the labs, but I didn’t know you knew medicine too. I’m impressed!”

Starscream snorted. “Just the basics. Seriously, don’t ask me to do anything more complicated. And make sure you see a real medic after ‘bout the missing plating.”

He was almost done, so he soldered the last few torn areas and turned off his welder. Good enough; it’d hold until self-repair or a real medic could look at it.

“Well, complicated or not, I really appreciate it.”

Starscream grunted and stood up. “Try not to move to much or do anything stupid before First Aid comes by,” he said.

He walked over to the next berth, where the mech had a couple long, shallow gashes across his chest and arms. This one wasn’t so chatty. Starscream managed to apply the pain patch and get most of the leakage stopped up before he heard the med-bay’s main door opening behind him.

“Hey, m’mechs, how’s it hanging?” Jazz said as he strode into the room. “I heard ya ran into a spot of trouble on the road.”

One of the mecha on the berths laughed. “Oh you know, it was nothing we couldn’t handle. Just some light maiming.”

Jazz laughed and patted the mech on the shoulder as he walked past. He was walking towards the minibot with First Aid, and Jazz arrived just as the medic seemed to finish with his chest plate. The minibot poked his head up to look at Jazz, which was disturbing on several levels. Apparently the mech had been online while First Aid rooted around inside his chest.

First Aid started working his way down the other row of damaged mecha as Jazz and the minibot spoke. Starscream kept working instead of trying to eavesdrop; he’d rather finish and get out as soon as he could. He had time to reach one other mecha before First Aid caught up. Then Starscream put his welder away and made a beeline to the door, more than ready to put the whole slagging cycle behind him.

There was a clatter as First Aid followed him. “Hey, wait! You’re Starscream, right? I didn’t know you had any medical experience!”

Starscream looked at the door longingly then glanced back at First Aid. “Literally just the basics, as I’ve told a half dozen mecha today.”

“Thank you for helping. Is it alright if I put you on the list? Just in case we get overwhelmed again?”

For a moment, Starscream was reminded of Silverbolt. Something about the earnestness, he supposed. The Protecticons weren’t that much older than the Aerialbots either, if Starscream was remembering right.

Internally, Starscream groaned. “Fine, whatever,” he said. He ignored First Aid’s pleased response and finally made it out of the med-bay. Starscream didn’t stop walking until he was back in his room and could collapse in his berth, exhausted.


	46. SF: Drunken Revelry

  
-<SF>-

Normally, the ship quieted down after a fight with the Autobots. Mecha were tired, nursing their wounds, or, if the raid had gone particularly badly, avoiding the Officers looking for someone to take out their temper on. So, when Skyfire emerged from his room with the injured, he was surprised to hear a roar of noise coming from the bridge.

Curious, Skyfire moved closer. Normally, Skyfire would have expected a racket to be some kind of fight. There were certainly enough brawls breaking out all the time; they seemed to be the most popular form of entertainment. Skyfire couldn't hear any cheering though, or the normal associated drama. Instead, Skyfire could swear he heard music.

The door was open, and Skyfire slipped inside. Mecha were shouting and laughing. Celebrating, it seemed like. Everyone was holding brightly colored energon cubes as well: high grade.

No wonder they were all celebrating. They were getting overcharged.

Skyfire sidled along the edge of the room, avoiding several passionate debates--one of which looked like it was about to turn to blows--and one very enthusiastic arm wrestling match. He'd almost made it to an empty seat when someone called his name.

"Skyfire! Hey, Skyfire, there ya are! Did those wing nuts finally let you off your leash?"

Skyfire felt a hand on his leg and looked down to see Rumble grinning up at him and holding his own cube. Frenzy was right behind him.

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of pet," Skyfire said, torn between humor and feeling insulted. He changed the subject before it became the latter. “So what’s going on?”

Rumble grinned. “We pulled one over on the Autobutts! We got a few good hits on the guys and made off with some of the Squishies’ energy while they were distracted. The Big Boss is giving us the night to celebrate!”

He pushed a cube into Skyfire’s hands. “Drink something! You’re too serious, mech!”

Skyfire took the cube and even took a drink to pacify Rumble. He certainly didn’t have anything against drinking high grade, but after a cycle in a makeshift med-bay he wasn’t much in the mood. Especially since they were celebrating a battle.

The Twins moved along soon enough, distracted by Skywarp drunkenly standing on a table and doing some sort of impression. Skyfire stayed at his chair, sipping his cube and looking around. Thankfully, he didn’t see the Stunticons anywhere. He’d guess their systems were developed enough to manage the charge of high-grade. Emotionally, though, they probably needed a couple centuries to handle any lowered inhibitions.

The main door opened again, and the noise level across the room dipped. Skyfire looked over.

Megatron had arrived.

The Warlord surveyed the room. He didn’t seem upset. Didn’t look like much of anything, honestly, except perhaps mildly annoyed. He acquired his own cube of high grade and walked to the center of the room to sit in his throne. The crowd parted to let him through. Megatron stayed there, looking down at the party and steadily drinking his cube.

Eventually, when Megatron did nothing else, the noise level rose again. It didn’t quite reach the previous level, but mecha were still getting drunk and enjoying themselves. Skyfire stayed quiet and kept watching.

Skyfire hadn’t interacted with Megatron much in his time on the ship. He’d seen the mech in passing a few times or as he presided over the bridge, but they’d never actually spoken. Not even after the times Megatron’s orders had forced Skyfire into combat he was thoroughly unprepared for. Skyfire had heard plenty of stories though, from the mech’s infamous temper to his role in the early days of the war, back when it was still a revolution. Motormaster in particular idolized the Warlord, who had apparently been the one to ignite the Younglings’ sparks. And then completely ignored them afterwards.

Skyfire was still figuring out his opinion of the mech. So far, though, he hadn’t liked what he’d seen.


	47. SS: Two's Company, Twelve's a Crowd

->SS<-

Starscream was being followed.

He throttled his engines, annoyed. He could guess who’d decided to spy on him. This time, the Aerialbots weren’t staying nearly far back enough to avoid his scanners. Starscream debated going all-out. He could easily lose the newbies if he pushed his engines, but then he’d have to deal with the fallout when he got back to the Ark. Better to head that slag off now.

Starscream stopped and transformed, using his anti-gravs to hover. Then he waited, facing the Youngling’s direction. It wasn’t long before four sheepish Jets and one Shuttle came drifting closer.

“Really?” Starscream said. “We’re doing this again?”

He stared them down, waiting for an answer. They wouldn’t meet his optics, but eventually Air Raid lifted his head.

“You’re going to meet a _Decepticon,_ ” he said, spitting out the word. “We weren’t gonna let you go alone!”

Starscream snorted. "What, do you think I need someone to 'keep me on the right track?' Is that it?"

Unexpectedly, the thought hurt. In Iacon, he'd been used to mecha expecting the worst from him. He'd taken a vindictive pleasure in proving them wrong or, when the situation warranted, right. It felt different when the Younglings were doubting him.

“Of course not!” Silverbolt said. “We’re just worried, you know? What if something happened?”

Most of Starscream's anger fizzled. Worry he could understand, even if he knew it wasn’t necessary. "It’s just Skyfire," he said. “I’ve known the mech for decavorns. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

The younglings seemed unconvinced. They exchanged glances, and Fireflight drifted forward.

“Can we meet him? Please?” Fireflight asks. “I wanna know what he’s like.”

The other four Aerialbots perked up and stared at Starscream, waiting for his answer. Seemed they really were curious about his partner. Starscream wondered how much of it was them worrying about his safety, and how much was them being nosey little slaggers.

“Do you really want to meet him that badly?” Starscream asked. ”Seriously, we’re just gonna talk. On a deserted island. It’s not that interesting.”

Five pairs of optics looked pleadingly at him, suggesting that, yes, they really did want to come. Starscream groaned.

“Fine,” he said. “You all are stubborn idiots, but fine. You can come.”

Starscream turned away. He was annoyed about the Younglings butting in on his personal business, but a small part of him was pleased about introducing Skyfire to the young Flyers. Although, a different orn probably would’ve been better.

"He's bringing mecha of his own; ones you're familiar with. Don't do anything stupid like attack them," Starscream said.

With another scan of the area, Starscream risked leading them closer to their meeting spot. After this, though, he was going to suggest changing location. He didn't like so many mecha knowing about it, even if he trusted all of them.

-/-

Skyfire and his entourage were already there when they arrived. Starscream vaguely recognized the Grounders he'd brought, though he was more familiar with their Combiner form. He could feel the Aerialbots hesitating behind him, uneasy about flying towards Decepticons. The Stunticons clustered together as they landed, sharing the Aerialbots' suspicion, but Skyfire walked right out to greet them.

"It's good to see you again," he said, pulling Starscream into a short embrace. Then he turned to the Aerialbots and smiled. "I wasn't expecting Starscream to bring guests. What are your designations?"

Skyfire's friendliness seemed to calm them down, and they introduced themselves one at a time. Skyfire's smile widened when it was Silverbolt's turn.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said. "There's not many Shuttles on Earth. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

Silverbolt returned the smile with a small one of his own. Then Skyfire motioned the Stunticons over and made them introduce themselves as well. The Grounders were grumpier, and it took them some prodding to say their designations. The blue and white one, Breakdown, was practically trying to hide behind his Gestalt leader.  They all kept staring at Starscream too.

"Didja really blow up a building once?" Drag Strip asked.

Starscream flushed in embarrassment. "Not... intentionally. The explosion was supposed to be smaller." He'd been trying to get revenge on one of their particularly bad colleagues. Nobody had been seriously injured, though the building had been a lost cause.

Starscream rounded on Skyfire. "You told them about that?"

Skyfire had the nerve to laugh. "You have to admit it's a good story," he said.

Then there were wings practically in his face, and Starscream looked over to see Air Raid and Slingshot flanking him and glaring at Drag Strip. Starscream shoved them away.

“Hey, none of that!” he said. “Don’t you dare start a fight!”

“But-”

“What did I tell you earlier? If you seriously can’t control yourself, then head back to the Ark.”

The Seekerlings flinched and nodded, though Starscream didn’t miss the glares they kept sneaking at the other gestalt. Huffing, Starscream turned away from them and walked to Skyfire’s side. Without him, the Seekerlings huddled around Silverbolt instead.

“Idiots,” Starscream grumbled as he relaxed against Skyfire’s side. Skyfire’s hand came up to rub Starscream’s wing, and he melted into the Shuttle’s side. At least this part of the afternoon was going well.

“They’re young, that’s all,” Skyfire said. “I’m sure they’ll be fine after they finish posturing. Unless you think they’ll actually start a fight?”

Starscream snorted at the thought. Forget the building he’d blown up: accidentally causing a Combiner fight would be his best story. Of course, he generally prefer to avoid disaster.

“Air Raid and Silverbolt are probably tempted, but I doubt they’ll go through with it. If nothing else, Silverbolt can usually keep them in line.”

So far, they seemed to be controlling themselves. That was good enough for Starscream.

~.*.~


	48. SF: Two's Company, Twelve's a Crowd

-<SF>-

Skyfire had been nervous about bringing the Stunticons with him and doubly so when he saw the Aerialbots flying in behind Starscream. He trusted his Gestalt to behave themselves—he wouldn’t have dared bring them otherwise—but part of him still expected it to go wrong. So far, their luck had held, and Skyfire was tentatively hopeful they’d finish the cycle without any new injuries or feuds. Together, he and Starscream surveyed the standoff that had formed between the two gestalts.

"Well," Starscream said. "You always said you liked the idea of a large family."  

Skyfire stifled a laugh. Back in the Golden Age, large families had meant two sparklings. Not ten.  

"And you said you'd carve out your own spark before taking on a Youngling of your own," Skyfire teased. "My how things change."

As he watched, Wildrider seemed to be getting bored with all the staring. He started poking at Drag Strip and Motormaster, looking for entertainment. Skyfire was mildly concerned, but he trusted they wouldn’t do anything too foolish.  

"Technically, these five already have a Caretaker. Two of them in fact," Starscream countered.  

"Grounders?"  

Starscream winced and nodded. "I think I was the first mech to actually teach them about flying."  

Skyfire shared his pain. Grounders had raised Flyers and vice versa during the Golden Age, but never alone. Younglings needed other mecha of the same frametype to teach them and race against. He wasn't surprised Starscream had stepped in. He'd always had a bit of a soft spot for Newbuilds, even if he preferred keeping them at a distance. Besides, Starscream had a protective streak, especially when it came to other Flyers.

Starscream snickered as Motormaster, apparently defending his pride, tackled Wildrider to the ground. That, of course, drew Breakdown to defend him, and then Drag Strip decided to jump into the fun, literally. Skyfire watched them, waiting to see if he'd need to step in, but they all seemed to be having fun and following the sparring rules. The Aerialbots mostly seemed confused. 

"So how'd you end up with this bunch of misfits?" Starscream asked.  

"They didn't even have a Caretaker," Skyfire said. "Before I figured that out, I thought their Guardians were just incompetent and offered them a few lessons. As far as I can tell, Megatron called their sparks and ignores them whenever he doesn’t need a Gestalt in battle."  

The thought still made him breathless with rage. Most of it was aimed at Megatron, but he wasn't picky. There were dozens of other adults who could have stepped in but hadn't. Skyfire knew the war had been difficult and cost them many ideals, but Younglings were precious. They deserved better. 

Starscream hissed. "Slagger. It’s a shame nobody’s taken him out yet.”  

Skyfire couldn’t object. “The Stunticons are doing well now though, especially after they started having their fields regulated regularly."  

It was remarkable how much of a difference that one change had made. They'd all calmed down significantly since he'd first met them. Their insecurities no longer magnified themselves in their field, and they were starting to learn some healthy ways of managing their emotions instead. Skyfire was proud.  

Air Raid had started eyeing the Stunticon pile. After looking at Starscream for permission, he whooped and jumped in to join the wrestling. Slingshot looked like he was tempted to join too, though the other three seemed entirely uninterested. Fireflight dodged around the playing mecha to stand next to Dead End instead. He said something, though it was too quiet for Skyfire to hear. The dour Youngling didn't seem bothered by him. He might have been enjoying the company, though it was hard to tell with him.  

"Interesting combination," Skyfire said.  

"Hmm?"  

Skyfire nodded towards Dead End. "He has a very self-contained Spark and an extremely pessimistic outlook. It'd do him good to get to know others his age"   

"Maybe a pessimist is what Fireflight needs," Starscream said. "He's flighty and easily distracted. He could use some grounding."

Skyfire was content to watch the Younglings interact for a while, occasionally sharing words and observations with Starscream. It was certainly entertaining, and he could sense Starscream’s enjoyment as well.

"We have some time to spare today. At least a few cycles before we'll be missed," Starscream said.  

Skyfire nodded. "Same here. We won't have shift for a while yet."  

So long as he was on time for shift and available for battles, nobody seemed to care how they spent the remainder of their time. Staying here, with Starscream and two gestalts worth of younglings, sounded like one of the best ideas he'd heard since waking up.  

Eventually, even Motormaster tired of playfighting, and the groups settled into conversations and other games. Skyfire only had to step in a couple times, when someone got too rough or the conversation heated. He supposed it was the novelty of interacting with other Younglings that kept anything from getting out of control. The Stunticons had vastly improved their self-control since their first meeting, but they still struggled with their tempers. 

They had to leave eventually though. The Stunticons watched the Flyers take off before they transformed and started back towards the ocean.  

"Think we'll see them again?" Wildrider asked.  

Before Skyfire could answer, Dead End spoke. "Someday, we'll see their corpses fall from across the battlefield. Or perhaps it will be us who dies first. Fate will tell."  

"Them," Drag Strip said immediately. "We're stronger than them. We'll definitely survive longer!"  

He got a chorus of agreements from his brothers. Skyfire didn't say anything. He wanted to reassure them nobody would die, but he couldn't promise that. The Younglings didn't even seem particularly bothered by the idea. Certainly not as much as Skyfire. He didn't know whether it was because they didn't understand the reality of deactivation or because, having been activated during a war, it was simply normal for them.  

Skyfire didn't much like either option.  

The Stunticons kept up a constant chatter as they drove back, laughing and bantering back and forth. Skyfire remained quiet, even after they reached the base.  

He stopped them before they wandered away.  

"Be careful," he told them. "I don't want you getting hurt."  

Then he went to start his shift.  

~.*.~

**AN:** So, this set of chapters was mostly self-indulgent because I really wanted these two groups to meet. Even though it creates a bit of a mess having 10 new people know their secret. Just… ignore any potential logistical issues and enjoy these misfits interaction. They won’t tell anyone!

Also, I’ve now officially finished with my first semester of medical school! It’s pretty crazy, which is why updates have been sparse. I’ll try to be productive over break, so we’ll see how that works out!


End file.
